


The Clint Barton Guide

by WhiteCeilings



Series: The Steve Rogers Guide (And Associated Works) [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Deaf Clint Barton, Hurt Clint Barton, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, POV Alternating, POV Clint Barton, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Steve Rogers, Protectiveness, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-08-20 21:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteCeilings/pseuds/WhiteCeilings
Summary: Steve Rogers has finally gotten used to being a slave. He's found a way to survive where both he and Bucky are happy, and the sacrifices are ones he's willing to make. Then he sees Clint at a slave market and a wrench is thrown into his perfect plan.Or, where Steve and Bucky get a new slave, and there are Problems. Set in the universe of "The Steve Rogers Guide To Dealing With It".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Important notes:
> 
> 1) This story is set in the canon universe of the SRG, except in this version, Natasha never became a slave. 
> 
> 2) In this work, Clint is mostly deaf without his hearing aids. His disability is used against him in multiple instances, and though none of them are too brutal, some people may find this triggering. Additional warnings for dub-con and physical abuse.

They were walking in town, Steve tucked safely under Bucky’s arm, when it happened. Everything had been so  _ normal _ ; Steve had finally felt himself settle into a routine, settle into a role, settle into his new skin. And then God decided to throw a curveball. 

They were walking past the same slave market that Steve was bought at. Normally, Steve tried not to pay attention when they were on this road, but today he couldn’t help it. He let his eyes scan over the new victims, the people who were free the week before, but were now in the purgatory before full-fledged slavery. There were more men this time, about half as many more men than women, but they all had the same look on their eyes. They watched over the crowd, wondering how much longer this would take, and what came after. 

All except one. 

Steve frowned, because that wasn’t right. One of the men near the end wasn’t looking at the crowd, because he was  _ blindfolded.  _ What was the point of that? What could he have possible done to warrant that? 

Then Steve looked a little closer, and every cell in his lungs expanded until they were breaking free of his ribs, choking him to death, because  _ no— _

_ _ “Clint!” Steve screamed, breaking free of Bucky’s hold. He darted through the crowd, ducking under a few arms, and straight up shoving one man.  _ Out of my way, out of my way, out of my way— _

_ _ He was only a few feet away when something snagged around his neck and he  _ choked.  _

_ _ Bucky yanked him back against his chest harshly. He must’ve grabbed onto the back of Steve’s collar, using Steve’s own momentum to choke him, and it hurt like  _ fuck _ but Steve didn’t care, Steve didn’t care, Clint was  _ there,  _ right there, blindfolded, bound, but  _ there—  _ for sale— a slave— Clint—

“ _ What the Hell was that _ ,” Bucky growled, directly into Steve’s ear. There was no escaping his grip this time. Bucky had wrapped around him like a vice, one arm squeezing Steve’s waist, and the other hand, the metal one, wrapped around Steve’s throat. “ _ You better have a good fucking reason for _ —”

“Him,” Steve choked out weakly, trying to shift his head in Clint’s direction. “Him. I— I know him. He’s my friend. His name is Clint.” Saying his name broke something in Steve, and he rapidly blinked, trying to stave away the tears. “Bucky, Bucky Bucky Bucky you have to buy him, you  _ have  _ to. Master—”

Bucky’s grip loosened enough to be comfortable, but not enough to allow Steve to escape. It was less of a hydraulic press and more of a bear hug. "I don't have to do anything. And I only wanted one slave, remember? We don't have room for another person."

"We'll  _ make  _ room," Steve begged. "Bucky. Please. This is so important to me, you don't  _ understand." _

Bucky huffed. “Hands behind your back.”

Steve scrambled to follow the order, and didn’t resist as Bucky cuffed his hands behind him. He hauled him over to one of the slavemongers, who was watching with interest. “I trust that you can keep an eye on him for a minute.”

“Of course— for a paying customer.”

“We’ll see.”

Steve watched as Bucky stalked over to Clint, who didn’t seem at all aware of the drama that had just unfolded. He jolted when Bucky touched him, forcing him to move his head and looking over his arms. Clint was shirtless, and when Bucky shifted him to the side Steve hissed at the marks on his back. When Steve was held by the slavemongers, they whipped his feet for acting out. Apparently, they had implemented a stricter policy with Clint. 

Bucky touched the plaque on Clint’s chest, looking displeased. He said something to him, and Clint replied, too far away for Steve to hear the answer. Finally, Bucky gestured a slavemonger over, and Steve dared to hope for the best, when Clint was helped off the crate and lead away. Bucky came back to Steve empty handed. 

“What’d you do?” Steve demanded. 

Bucky took him back from the slavemonger, pulling him away. “Getting a slave is a big decision. It’s not the sort of thing to decide spontaneously. I had them put him on hold so we could talk.”

“Thank you. Master, thank you, please, I really—”

Bucky raised a hand, and Steve closed his mouth. “Quiet. We’ll discuss this at home.”

They would. And Bucky would agree. Steve had already lost Clint once; he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

  
  


—————————

  
  


When they got home, Steve immediately went to the fishbowl, where he methodically stripped and climbed onto the bed with his supplies. He knew Bucky was watching when he spread his legs and started stretching his hole, but Steve didn't look over to confirm.

He tried to get as thorough of a stretching as possible, despite his impatience. Finally, he pushed the plug all the way in, getting up and shifting a little, trying to get used to it. Next, he pulled on a harness. This one started directly below his ass, cupping his cheeks and wrapping around his waist and chest, before turning into a V shape at his sternum and wrapping around to his back. Steve struggled to tighten all of the buckles by himself, but he managed. 

As a final touch, he pulled up a pair of semi-sheer panties. For modesty, of course. 

Bucky was sitting at the table pretending to ignore him when he came out. Steve sauntered over and straddled his lap, trying not to hiss at the feel of the plug in his ass, and wrapped his arms around Bucky's neck. "You said you wanted to talk?" 

Bucky finally acknowledged him, giving him an amused look. "Is that what you want? Did my babydoll get all dressed up to 'talk'?" 

"You weren't sure you wanted a slave when you got me," Steve murmured, not having to speak any louder than that to be heard. "And that was the right choice. So far, getting a new slave has been the right choice 100% of the time."

"Hmm, interesting use of statistics. So, say I buy him. What then?"

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it. He hadn’t actually thought that far. “Then… you’d have two slaves. You could expand the farm, since you’d have both of us to help with it. We could spread chores out more.” A new thought occurred to Steve, and he pulled a little closer, his skin rising with goosebumps around the leather. “And I’d be  _ so happy.  _ I’d train him, show him the ropes. And then I’d be so  _ grateful  _ to you…”

Bucky grabbed Steve’s ass, groping it roughly. It hurt a little, with the plug in, but Steve leaned into it. “Yeah? You’d be grateful?”

“I’m grateful right now, just talking about it.”

“You wanna show me how grateful you are?” 

Steve nodded, giving Bucky a kiss before standing and dropping his panties, leaving him just in the figure hugging, skin exposing harness. Bucky eyed him hungrily, then commanded “Bed. Now.”

Steve ended up on his hands and knees on Bucky’s bed, his cheek flush against the sheets and his now empty hole gaping awkwardly. Bucky bound his arms together in the back, leaving Steve unbalanced until he grabbed onto the straps by his ass, hauling him closer. When Bucky pushed in, Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He should’ve done a better job stretching— should’ve left the plug in longer— but here they were, and Steve was going to make this good. 

Bucky did a few test thrusts before grabbing on tight and slamming in. Steve cried out, but it was instantly replaced by a moan when Bucky rubbed right over his prostate. 

Bucky fucked Steve hard and dirty, eventually emptying into him and holding his cock inside as he rolled them over. Steve thought it was done, but then he got out a vibrator and pressed it to the underside of Steve’s dick until he screamed, ass still full of Bucky’s cock, and arms still bound behind him. 

They were quiet for a few minutes, catching their breath. Then Bucky said “If it’s that important to you. I’ll do it. But if it doesn’t work out, I’m giving him to Sam.”

Steve was too fucked out to come up with any logical response. "Yes, Master."

  
  


\-----------------------

  
  


Bucky left Steve at home when he went to get Clint. Steve paced back and forth, hooking his finger into his collar and pulling on it mindlessly. His neck was pretty badly bruised from the day prior and the pain helped him focus.

Steve heard Fenris barking when Bucky got back, so he hurried to sit on the couch. He stayed there as Bucky dragged Clint in, and--

Clint was still blindfolded. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, which was to say, pants and nothing else. Bucky removed the cheap collar the slavemongers had given him, then dragged him into the fishbowl. Steve sat up on his knees to keep watching, as Bucky shoved Clint on the bed and Clint struggled against him, trying to get away despite being blinded. Finally, Bucky hauled him onto his stomach and yanked his arms behind him, binding them. He growled something in Clint’s ear, and though Steve couldn’t hear what he was saying there was no doubt in his mind that it was a  _ growl.  _

_ _ Bucky brought Clint up to a sitting position, giving him some sort of warning. Then the blindfold was off, and Steve got to experience the feeling of his heart draining dry in real time. It was Clint, without a single doubt, which meant that this was real. Clint had been captured too, and now Steve would have to try to find some way to protect him, and how could he do that when he couldn’t even protect himself? Bucky was a good Master, but he was still a master. He was not above punishing disobedience. 

Clint looked disoriented and confused, his hair sticking up randomly. Steve watched them exchange tense remarks for a few moments before Clint swiveled his head, and then he was  _ looking at him,  _ he  _ saw him.  _ Clint gaped; he looked back to Bucky and said something scathing. Bucky’s expression flared up, and he slapped Clint across the face so hard he fell to the side, his bound arms unable to break his fall. Bucky grabbed him by the hair, hauling him back up, and snarled something. Then he dragged him to sitting in the center of the bed, and put the blindfold back on. 

Steve was up the second Bucky left the room. “What happened? Why’d you hit him, he didn’t—”

“He made a rude comment about you,” Bucky growled, storming past Steve to go to his gear he’d dropped by the door. “He called me a pervert and accused me of fucking little boys.”

“_What?” _Steve had thought that Clint was angry because he saw Steve, but when he’d looked at him, there hadn’t been any recognition. Clint _didn’t_ _recognize him._

_ _ Bucky huffed, digging through his gear. Steve expected him to put him gun away, but instead Bucky pulled a little box out of his jacket, tossing it to Steve. 

“What’s this?”

“‘Accessories’”, Bucky mocked. “The slave traders gave it to me. I dunno what it is.”

Steve didn’t know what it was either. It could be another implement to use in torturing Clint, but Steve was pretty if that was the case, Bucky would know better than to hand it over to Steve. Steve opened the box, and somehow felt even sicker. 

Inside, sat atop their charging cord, was Clint's hearing aids. Which meant that this whole time, being paraded around and dragged back here, Clint hadn’t only been blind but  _ deaf.  _

  
  
  


_ —————————— _

  
  


Bucky made Steve wait half an hour before going in to see Clint. He insisted that Clint needed time to calm down. Steve practically counted the seconds. 

Once inside the room, though, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Clint was still blindfolded, still unaware that Steve was even on the same planet as him, much less in the same room. Part of Steve didn’t want to tell Clint. Wouldn’t it be more compassionate to let him believe Steve was happily living out his days on earth? It would be a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless. 

Steve pressed on. 

He climbed onto the bed behind Clint, taking care to keep his movements small. “I know you’re there,” Clint declared blindly, his voice full of hatred. Steve winced despite himself. “And I don’t know what you want me for, but I can guess. And I’ll have you know I won’t be laying down and taking it any time soon—”

He cut himself off when Steve ran his fingers through his hair. The gesture was familiar, affectionate, and Steve mentally cursed himself. He shouldn’t do that. Clint still thought that he was Bucky, it wasn’t fair to give him that sort of touch when it was so far from consensual. 

Instead, Steve settled behind Clint, one leg bent beneath himself. He took a deep breath, then exhaled.  _ Alright. Here we go.  _

Steve carefully cupped Clint’s ears, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. Those were the spots where the hearing aids sat, and Clint sometimes complained about soreness, even though the aids weighed about as much as a quarter. So, Steve had gotten in this habit, when the situation allowed for it. He rubbed the backs of Clint’s ears; so what? He was his friend. 

He was his  _ friend.  _

_ _ Something in Clint’s posture changed. He was more hunched over now, less like he wanted to leap and more like he wanted to roll into himself like a pill bug and die on the spot. 

Done with the massage, Steve carefully set the hearing aids into place, turning them on and fitting the smaller pieces at the fronts of Clint’s ear canals. He sat his hands on Clint’s shoulders, rubbing lightly while he waited for Clint to adjust to hearing again. “Take your time,” he whispered. “We’ve got all day.”

Clint’s voice, when he finally spoke, was one of the saddest things Steve had ever heard. “...Steve?”

Steve sniffled. He thought he was ready for this, but…

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. I’m so, so sorry.”

——————————

  
  


They talked for a minute or so before Bucky came in. He moved quietly, but Clint still somehow picked up on the noises and tensed up, muttering questions that Steve wasn’t allowed to answer. “Steve? Where is he, I know he’s here. How close is he, what is he—”

Steve scooted back, giving Bucky room to work. He undid Clint’s blindfold, making him let out a gasp as his sight was returned to him. Clint swiveled his head, finding Steve on the bed behind him and letting his gaze linger for a moment before returning to Bucky, puffing himself up like he was trying to make himself a wall between the two of them. “I don’t know what makes you think you have the right to keep us here—”

“You’d do yourself well to keep your mouth  _ shut,” _ Bucky threatened darkly. Steve sunk back a little; he forgot how intense Bucky could be sometimes. Not to mention the fact that Bucky was much bigger than Clint, who was no pushover, and unlike Clint, Bucky was oriented, free to move, and looming over him. “My name is Barnes, but you will refer to me only as ‘Master’. I have the papers to prove that I own you  _ both.” _

_ _ Clint glared darkly. “The papers are bullshit; you can’t own another person.”

Oh, this was going to so much harder than Steve realized. 

“The papers are valid, and you’re my slave,” Bucky replied calmly. “I’m going to give you two some space now, and you have a choice: you can either keep your restraints on, or have me take them off. But if you want them off, you need to ask respectfully, got it?”

Clint tilted his chin up, staying silent. Prideful little shit. Steve had a bad habit of becoming friends with people similar to himself, which was great when going out or picking which movie to watch, but pretty horrific when it came to things like this, because Steve was  _ stubborn.  _ Clint wasn't one to go down without resistance. 

“It’s not a big sacrifice,” Bucky said carefully, giving Clint time to make his decision. “A few words for your comfort. Think about it.”

“Clint,” Steve hissed, when Clint continued showing no signs of moving. “Come on. Just do it.”

Clint looked back at him, giving him such a desperate look that Steve regretted ever talking a day in his life. Finally, Clint turned back and replied “Yes, I’d like the bindings off.”

“Eh,” Bucky said, tilting his head a little. “You’re almost there. Try again.”

Clint gritted his teeth. “I’d like the bindings off,  _ please.” _

_ _ “Closer. Who am I?”

Clint looked down, closing his eyes. The words seemed to cost him when he said: “I’d like the bindings off, master. Please.”

“See? Easy,” Bucky commented, going around and undoing the bindings in one smooth move, freeing Clint’s arms. “Respect will get you  _ everywhere. _ ”

“Bite me.”

Bucky slapped his thigh, sharply enough to technically count as a reprimand, then gave Steve a meaningful look as he left the room. He could still see them, of course, since they were in the fishbowl, but the semblance of privacy was a gift all on its own. 

Steve practically tackled Clint, dragging him back to the headboard so they could lay on the pillows. He wrapped his arms around him, hugging him freely now that Clint was free to see and move again. “Hey. Hey. Good job, that was good. Bucky doesn’t care one way or another, you gotta take care of yourself sometimes.”

Clint hugged back, fisting his hands in Steve’s shirt. “Steve. Steve, I don't understand, when did you, how—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, we’re alright. I’ve been here a few months, it’s no big deal. We got lucky, you have no idea how lucky we got.” 

“Stevie, I don’t know if this counts as luck. How’d this even happen? What type of insane coincidence must it have taken for him to choose both of us?”

Steve cringed internally. He tried not to show it, but Clint gave him a look that showed that he saw it. Even after all the months apart, Clint still knew him. “It wasn’t a coincidence,” Steve admitted. “I saw you at the market and asked Bucky to buy you. Um. Convinced him to buy you. Which means, you have to follow my lead and be good, otherwise he’s going to give you to Sam.”

Clint groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m guessing that’s a bad thing. What’s Sam’s deal? Is he also a leather-clad bondage creep?”

_ Pal, you have no idea.  _ “No. He and Bucky are… very different people. He has seven slaves. They’re all great, actually, but… you’ll see what I mean when you meet them. Just trust me, alright? I promise, I know what I’m doing.”

Honestly, Steve really didn’t. But he knew better than Clint right now, and that had to count for something. 

  
  


——————————

  
  


Bucky let them have the full day together, with Steve only leaving once to get dinner from the kitchen while Clint showered. Bucky’d gone shopping before picking Clint up, so he helped Steve organize the closet and drawers to suit both of them. Once that was set up, Steve grabbed a set of clothes for Clint and ducked into the bathroom, setting them on the toilet. “Hey Clint, there are clothes here—”

“Steve! Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?!”

Oh  _ no. _ Steve was not equipped to handle this. 

“The clothes are on the toilet,” Steve said, instead of responding to that atrocious comment. “Have fun.”

After that, they sat together and talked for the reminder of the day, until finally, it was time for bed. Steve had watched Bucky through the glass wall for the half hour leading up, and observing him go through their normal nightly routine without him. Finally, Bucky changed into sleep-clothes and came to retrieve Steve, rubbing his face in a yawn. “C’mon, batter-butt. Bedtime." 

Steve got up obediently, stripping off his shirt as he went to the closet to get another one. "Is Clint--"

"Clint's sleeping here, you're with me. Get to it."

Steve yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. "Yes Master."

He changed quickly, just pulling on a new shirt and leaving his pants off. The action was so natural that he was already clothed again when he realized Clint was still in the room, staring at him. His eyes darted down to Steve's ass-- which was covered in a rather comfortable pair of red panties-- and back up to Steve's face, giving him a horrified look. Steve awkwardly shuffled to Bucky, offering Clint a smile and a “Night” before following behind him. 

A few minutes later, they laid in bed together, the lights out. Steve’s back was to Bucky’s chest, and Bucky’s hand was underneath his shirt, playing with his nipple bars idly. “You have a good talk?” Bucky whispered into the silence. 

Steve swallowed. “Yeah. It’s… hard to see him again. But easy, at the same time. I still don’t know how to feel.” He shifted a little, wanting to roll over, but Bucky held him in place, not yet done teasing his, now very firm, buds. “What about you? What do you think?”

Bucky took a long time to answer. “I… don’t know. He’s bigger than you, I don’t think I like that. He’s less… malleable. I’m not quite sure what to do with him.”

“You don’t have to  _ do  _ anything. Just help him get adjusted, I guess. Make sure he knows the ground rules.” Steve wiggled his butt a little, the nipple stimulation finally starting to make its way down to give Steve a semi. He wasn’t going to get fucked tonight, unfortunately, but Bucky had no problem teasing him until he was leaking and then stopping to go to sleep. Steve did his best to ignore the feeling slowly welling up inside him. “I’m tired. Go to bed.”

“You go to bed,” Bucky teased. “I’m comfy like this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Clint**   
  


Clint's eyes woke up sometime before his brain. He was aware of the world around him, but it took awhile for him to  _ realize _ that he was aware. 

He stared through the glass wall. Practically the entire house could be seen through it, and as Clint's eyes adjusted he acknowledged that he was not the first person awake, even though it was probably ass-o-clock in the morning. Steve was on his hands and knees doing something in the living area, and Barnes was in the kitchen. They were talking, though Clint couldn't hear, either because of the wall or because Barnes had taken his aids the night before while Steve was brushing his teeth. 

He watched Steve and Barnes interact. Barnes was huge in comparison to him, intimidating and big enough to crush Steve like a bug. He moved slowly, but not in a way that suggested age or injury; more like a gorilla, like he understood he was the king of the jungle and, if there were a threat, he’d be a force of nature. But, until that threat came, he was fine ambling along at his own pace. 

Clint did his best not to imagine what it must have been like for Steve. The day before, he’d told him how he’d been living with Barnes for months, though he didn’t divulge much more than that. Clint knew Steve, knew what sort of effort it would take to get him to stop fighting for ten goddamn minutes. He didn’t want to know what Barnes had done to make him give in. But just because he didn’t want to know didn’t mean he could stop himself from laying awake the night before, guessing every possible horror. From what he’d seen of this society and experienced firsthand, he knew violence was allowed. Maybe Steve was whipped, like he was. Maybe Steve was tied up, held in place while Barnes—

Last night, Barnes had come in to retrieve Steve. He’d made him sleep in his bed, made him take off his pants. Clint didn’t want to think about it. 

He must have been watching them less conspicuously than he thought, because it was only a few minutes before Barnes sauntered over to the fishbowl door, letting himself in. Clint scooted into a sitting position on the bed. It wasn’t all that defensible, but it was still an upgrade to laying down. 

Through the glass, Steve was pretending not to be watching them. He appeared to be… washing the floors? He continued scrubbing, meeting Clint’s eyes briefly before looking away, his jaw set. That was great, just perfect. If Steve felt the need to worry, Clint wasn’t going to be a fan of what happened next. 

Barnes made a few gestures with his hands, and it occurred to Clint after a moment that he was  _ signing.  _ The gestures weren’t as sharp as they should have been, and he was frowning in concentration, but he still moved with the speed of someone who understood signs fluently.  _ Stand down. Hands behind you. _

_ _ It was Clint’s turn to grit his teeth. He followed the orders, cringing when the man came closer, gripping his hair and using it to move his head. It took Clint a moment to realize he was putting Clint’s hearing aids in for him, the little voice on the inside announcing  _ “Battery Level: High”. _

_ _ As soon as they were in, Clint shoved Barnes away, glaring. “You know I can put those in myself.”

“You can,” Barnes agreed. “But you won’t. Not without permission. From now on, I’ll be putting them in for you each morning.” 

“ _ What? _ ” 

“If you wanted, I could just keep them. Save both of us the trouble.”

Clint’s face burned. He hated this, hated this man trying to hold his deafness over him like that. It had taken him a long time to accept Steve’s offer of helping with his hearing aids sometimes, mostly just because it was weird and strangely personal. But hey, Steve was a weird and strangely personal kind of guy, and a trustworthy one at that, so Clint had agreed. Steve just took his hearing aids out for him when he fell asleep with them in, usually on Natasha’s couch. She had a spare charger that lived in her kitchen, and so when Steve was the one to take them out he plugged them in too. He only put them in for Clint when he was feeling especially cuddly, or as a distraction. Steve would rub Clint’s ears, put them in, and say something like “So, I’m going to the anti-vax protest today,” and Clint would be too distracted to ask logical questions. 

But that was after a years-long friendship. Barnes wanted to control Clint’s hearing after only being aware of each other’s existence for a  _ day.  _

_ _ “Com'ere,” Barnes commanded, at the end of the bed now. 

“Make me.”

Surprisingly enough, that wasn’t the answer Bucky wanted. He slapped Clint on the thigh, hard enough to bruise, then grabbed him by a handful of his shirt and dragged him over bodily. Clint’s struggling didn’t seem to help, and when he twisted out of the shirt Bucky just grabbed a fist of his hair and forced him to kneel, face to the ceiling. “I’m going to fasten a collar on you now, and you’re not going to fight me.”

_ A collar.  _

“No!” Clint exclaimed. 

Fighting Barnes, he quickly learned, was incredibly useless. Barnes just went to the set of drawers to retrieve something, and when Clint tried to run to the door Bucky caught him by the neck, hauling him back to bed and slamming him down on it. His expression was blank as he squeezed, cutting off Clint’s airways. “You will listen, and you will obey,” he explained calmly. “And if you do not, you will be punished.”

He pushed two fingers into Clint’s open maw, and only then released his grip on his throat. Clint gasped, forced to breath around the fingers, and as soon as he had almost caught his breath his jaw was pried open and something rubber was stuffed inside. Barnes made quick work, locking the gag in place at the back. "There," he murmured. "All better." 

After that, it was easy for Barnes to pull Clint's head back, giving him all the room in the world to attach the collar, tightening it to be flush against his throat. "There we go. Now get up; maybe if you don't cause anymore problems, we can eat breakfast."

**Steve**

The collar fiasco was only the beginning. Clint tried to fight Bucky on _everything_, and Bucky's patience could only last so long until finally, he snapped. Steve watched as Bucky shoved Clint into the fishbowl, locking the door behind him. He forcibly stripped Clint, then got his hands behind him and body slammed him onto the bed, where he hogtied him rather brutally. Then, he took out Clint's hearing aids, pushed in a gag, and blindfolded him. Then he just… left him. 

Steve was upset, but he wasn't sure who at. Either way, he waited until Bucky had closed the fishbowl door to talk and then kept his tone calm and impartial. "How long are you keeping him like that?"

"Depends," Bucky said, plopping on the couch and digging his fingers through Steve's hair in a forceful massage. "How long do you think until it'll keep?" 

"He's scared," Steve defended, neck lulling with Bucky's movements. "He thinks you hate him."

"Well I certainly don't love him."

Steve nudged him gently. "You need to give him rewards, not just punishments. You remember how gentle you were with me when we first started?"

Steve was pretty damn scared, and also thought he was going to get shot if he fucked up, but saying his submission was in response to Bucky's 'gentleness' was something he could concede. 

Bucky sighed, apparently weighing Steve's idea. "What would I even give him?" 

Steve looked at his feet. Bucky had kept Steve and Clint apart most days, as well as every night. Maybe...

"No," Bucky said, reading his look perfectly. "No, you're mine at night. He doesn't get you." 

"If you let me spend more time with him--" 

"You're not his!" Bucky snapped. "And-- and you're speaking out of turn. Who am I?"

Steve chewed on his lip, trying to decide the best way to handle this situation. Before he could decide, Bucky had backhanded him. 

Steve slipped off the couch, landing smoothly on his knees facing Bucky. He did  _ not  _ reach up to touch his face, no matter how hard it stung. "You are my master."

Bucky looked surprised, but continued regardless. "And who are you?"

"I'm your slave." 

"Which means what?"

Steve clasped his hands behind his back and ducked his head, a perfect display of submission. "I am your property." 

Bucky carded his fingers through Steve's hair, considering this. "I'm surprised you got on your knees. You usually don't do that."

"I told you I'd be good, didn't I? I told you that I'd make it worth your while." 

"Mmm. That you did." 

Steve looked up through his lashes, trying to gauge Bucky's thoughts. It was possible, that with Steve sweet-talking him and already in position, that Bucky might want a blowjob. If that was the case, Steve would give it to him.

But after a few moments, Bucky pushed Steve away instead of pulling him in. "I'm gonna let Clint simmer for a while. Then, if he manages to do  _ something  _ good tonight, he can have you to share his bed tonight. But that's not permission to fuck, understand? You can sleep next to him, but you won't ever belong to him, understand? And why is that?"

"Because I belong to you." Steve recited. He glanced over at the fishbowl, where Clint was breathing heavily in his bondage. "Sir--" 

"I just got him in position," Bucky complained. Steve looked down, pressing his lips together, and Bucky sighed. "Fine. How about this? You want him out of his bondage so bad, you can take over for him. I'll--" 

"Done." Steve blinked, a little surprised with himself. "I mean. Um. Yes please. Master." 

Bucky gave him a weird look, then hauled him up to his feet, taking his hand as they entered the room. Clint was huffing behind the gag, too panicked by his absolute deprivation to be able to slow his breathes. Seeing him just hardened Steve's resolve; Bucky could do absolutely anything to him, and it would be worth it. Anything to get Clint away from his fears. 

Once, Clint had confessed that he hated anything that took his senses away. He hadn't always had hearing aids, but he'd always had hearing troubles, and it had been used against him before. He still slept with a nightlight. 

Bucky put Clint's hearing aids back in first, then took out the gag. As soon as the gag was out, Clint was hurling insults, voice broken and furious. "You son of a fucking cunt, I hope you burn in hell--" 

Steve grabbed Bucky's arm before he could slap Clint, yanking him away and pulled him in for a kiss, hoping it'd be an adequate distraction. He covered Bucky's ears with his hands, playing it up like he was just trying to deepen the kiss, but Clint only got  _ louder _ as he was ignored. "--disgusting fucker, horse-shit eating, rapey piece of shi--" 

Bucky pushed Steve down harshly against the bed. Steve cried out in surprise, which only made Clint get louder, more panicked. "Stop trying to get in the way," Bucky reprimanded, then got off of Steve to deal with Clint. Steve considered trying to block him, but at this point, they were all probably better off if he didn't. 

"I'll gag you again if you don't shut the hell up," Bucky threatened Clint, shoving his face into the comforter. He made quick work of untying him, holding his limbs still until he went limp on his own. He let Clint sit up and pull off his blindfold on his own, returning Clint's glare with an equally murderous one of his own. 

Steve swallowed. "Bucky--" 

"Shut up." 

Steve closed his mouth. 

"Strip." 

"You can't order him around like he's an animal," Clint snapped, now leaning against the headboard, as far from Bucky as he could get. Steve shot him a glare, because no, really, he  _ could.  _ Clint made another sound of protest as Steve got up and followed Bucky's instructions until he was standing, nude besides his panties, hands at his sides.

Clint's glare just got worse. "Don't you dare touch him. He's not your  _ slave _ ; neither of us are. Don't you--" 

"Stevie, here." 

Steve followed the command like his body was metal and Bucky was a magnet. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, rubbing at his sore back, biting along his jaw, spreading his cheeks painfully. Steve jerked a little, but didn't fight back, not even when Bucky gripped his cock and balls in one hand, squeezing in threat. "Just look at him," he said in a way that made Steve think he was talking to Clint. "Obedient. Complaint. Silent and  _ still."  _

_ _ "You're assaulting him," Clint spoke out, voice loud in the quiet room. Steve looked over to him, seeing his messy golden-wheat hair, his muscular arms crossed defensively over his bare chest. Steve felt a small shiver run down his spine-- he'd had a crush on Clint for a while, back on Earth, and it was times like these where he remembered why. He was such a good person, always trying to do what he thought was right _ .  _ He was also Steve's friend, which was why he never acted on his crush, even when it felt like Clint was flirting back. 

Bucky bared his teeth, his hand squeezing around Steve's crotch just enough to make him wince. "I'm not  _ assaulting  _ him. I own him, anything I tell him to do, he does. And if he doesn't, he gets punished. Isn't that right?" 

Oh great, he wants Steve to speak now. "Yes sir," he says haughtily, hoping it sounds convincing and not sarcastic. 

"Steve and I do talk, by the way. We make agreements. Deals. How else do you think you got out of your punishment so quickly?" Clint winced, eyes wide, and Bucky chuckled. "That's right. Steve said he'd trade places with you." 

"Steve, you don't--" 

"Shut up for once in your life, will you?" Steve snapped, unable to hold himself back. "Just play the game." 

Something in his words must have resonated with Clint, because Clint stayed on his side of the bed, watching with silent anger as Bucky took the implements he'd previously been using on Clint to use on Steve. He wiped the ball gag off on the bedspread before forcing Steve's mouth open and pushing it in, immediately followed by the blindfold. "Let this be a lesson to you," he narrated. "Next time you think of getting out of line, remember this. Steve is more than happy to take your punishments for you-- isn't that right?" 

Bucky pushed a digit against Steve's hole, and Steve screamed through the gag.  _ No, not in front of-- _

_ _ But Bucky's already removed it. "Understand?" 

"Yes sir," Clint said roughly 

"Good. In that case, I want you to get dressed in the casual clothes I showed you; we're going to get some yardwork done while he finishes your punishment. Stevie, hands and feet." 

Steve obediently brought his limbs together behind him for Bucky to bind. He did so roughly, pressing a few kisses along his shoulders and neck when he was done, sticking his tongue into Steve's ear to make him squirm. "There we go. Will you be good for a few hours?" 

Steve whined in what he hoped came across as acceptance.    
  


\---------------------   
  


During the few hours Steve was bound, he managed to let his mind go bleary and numb until he was drifting, time passing by as inconsequential. He only realized it had been a few hours when he heard the back door open, and Bucky came in to release Steve. After everything was off and Steve was just in his collar and panties, Bucky left, letting Clint inside the fishbowl and closing the door. "Steve, I'm so--" 

"Give me a break," Steve muttered, too dreamy still to be able to handle an argument. "I know how to do this; you're new. I can take it." 

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you should have to." 

Clint went to the drawers and grabbed Steve clothes, sweats and boxers and a tshirt. Steve would be covered like a nun. Jesus, how did he not realize what a prude his friend was?

Clint turned his back to give Steve privacy to change-- which was hilarious, what with the  _ glass well--  _ and only when Steve confirmed he was done did Clint turn, climbing on the bed with him. He scooted close enough that their bodies touched, and steve sighed, wiggling his arms to get in a more comfortable position, and resting his head on Clint's shoulder. "What'd you do outside?" 

Clint grunted. He smelled like sweat and hay, so Steve wasn't exactly surprised when he answered "We did some work in the barn. One of the stall doors needed to be re-hung." 

"Oh yeah? Was it fun?"

"I spent the entire time trying not to punch him in the face. Does that sound fun?" 

Steve huffed. "Why are you so angry? He hasn't even done anything to you." 

"Hasn't done anything?! Steve, do you even hear yourself? I see the way he looks at you, the way he touches you..." 

Steve was already shaking his head, mentally begging Clint to shut up. "Please just… stop. Let's talk about something else. Did you see the geese?"

Thankfully, Clint hooked onto the topic change, sighing. "Yeah, and that giant fucking dog. Fanny, or something." 

" _ Fenris. _ What do you think? Does he, uh, scare you, or--" 

"Not really. Why?" 

"No reason," Steve said quickly. "I--"

"Wait, what is that?" Clint interrupted, and before Steve could block him he was pulling Steve's collar down, mouth open in shock. "Steve, those are  _ bruises.  _ What happened to--" 

"Leave it alone," Steve snapped. "None of your business." Those bruises had been from when Bucky had yanked him back after seeing Clint for the first time, actually. Steve hesitated. "It was my fault; it's not a big deal."

Clint took a deep breath, like he was working himself up to say something. "I'm going to get you out of here, okay? I promise." 

Steve felt sick to his stomach. "Clint--" 

"Don't tell me anything that'll make me think you're even more broken than I already think, okay? I'm going to get us out of here, and that's final." 

Steve didn't know how to respond to that, so instead, he just closed his mouth, leaning a little more against Clint's shoulder. He never would have gotten to be this unabashedly close to Clint back home; he was always too headstrong to be coddled, and Clint was always too respectful to try and hold him like this. They should've, though. Maybe they would have been happier if they had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! Let me know if you have any requests ;) I haven't decided yet what the endgame of this minific is (just that itll be different from the main fic), so let me know what you're interested in. Polyamory? Angst? Clint and Gamora go skipping into the sunset? Let me know what interests you :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Clint**

Clint wasn't sure what woke him up at first. He certainly didn't feel well rested-- and how could he, what with the fact that the sun hadn't even fully risen yet? It was still mostly dark in the small house, mostly warm, mostly quiet, besides the soft breathing of Steve next to him. 

Clint turned over, fully expecting to see Steve still asleep. Instead, Steve was smiling at him, a little dreamy-eyed, the comforter pulled up to his chin. "Morning." 

"Morning," Clint agreed, scanning over him once. One change he hadn't fully recognized about Steve: he was cute now. He'd always been 'cute' in a way, definitely attractive, but he never really let himself be  _ sweet.  _ Now he was, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. 

Steve nudged him with one leg under the covers, expression going bashful. "Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday. I get that it's a big transition. You have the right to be upset. I just… I wish you'd trust me more." He gave Clint a meaningful look. "I do actually know what I'm doing." 

Clint sighed. He appreciated the apology, but he didn't know if he could really trust Steve. Steve had clearly underwent some sort of brainwashing-- otherwise, how would he be okay with kissing the man who captured him? Barnes was the enemy, and Steve acted like he was a roommate, or something… else. He wasn't exactly of the most sound mind right now. 

Clint was about to respond when the door opened, and he whipped around to see Barnes in the doorway. He quickly shoved Steve down, putting himself in between them. He'd seen the bruises on Steve's neck. He couldn't save Steve then, but maybe he could save him now.

"What do you want?" He snapped, trying to make himself bigger to completely hide his friend. 

Barnes rolled his eyes. "Time to wake up. We're doing chores, then showers, then breakfast." 

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Chores? But it's still dark out." 

"Which means it's time for chores; get dressed." Something caught Bucky's eye, and he went around the other side of the bed to where Steve was. He pushed the covers down carelessly, helping prop Steve up and tracing light circles on his arms. "And how are you, this fine morning?" 

Steve smiled softly. "Alright. Is Clint going to help with weeding?"

\--------------------

  
  


Chores sucked ass. Breakfast was okay, and Clint was never going to be mad at a hot shower, but when he got out of the shower Barnes had taken his clothes and was waiting in the fishbowl expectantly. Before Clint could protest, he tossed him a pair of black boxers. "Put these on." 

Clint caught the boxers with one hand, holding his towel up with the other. Bucky was blocking the bathroom door, and he didn't seem like he was going to leave to give Clint some privacy. Clint tried to compromise. "Could you, erm… turn around?" 

Barnes slow-blinked at him, like a cat questioning its life decisions. "No. Drop the towel, put the boxers on. It's not difficult." 

Clint huffed, but gave in, trying to get the underwear on as quickly as possible. They were technically boxer briefs, as they clung comfortably to his skin. Clint was then given black pants with lace up boots, and a black tank. Over the tank, Bucky attached a leather harness.

Barnes lead him into the living room then, and Steve looked up from his spot on the couch, eyes wide. "You look like you stepped out of a fetish magazine." 

Barnes picked up a magazine from a side table smacked Steve with it. Clint went ahead and assumed it was a fetish magazine. 

"We're almost ready," Barnes announced. "But first, Stevie, go into my room and stretch yourself. I want you to put a medium glass plug in." 

Steve's posture dropped, making himself look instantly smaller. "Why? I thought--" 

"We're going into town, and you're going to act as insurance. Clint is going to be good because he doesn't want me to play with you in public, isn't that right?" 

Steve glared  _ hard  _ at Clint, mouthing  _ you fucking better.  _ Then he scurried up and went into Barnes' room, closing the door behind him. 

"You're sick," Clint muttered. 

"And you're a slave," Barnes agreed. "Suck it up. Just feel lucky Steve convinced me to buy you; most other masters would laugh at how light I'm going on you."

  
  


\----------------

  
  


Steve had been gone for a few minutes when Barnes saw something through the window and dragged Clint outside with him. Outside was a black guy in pastels, standing next to a short guy with curly brown hair. The shorter one was wearing a collar, and, under closer inspection, bright pink eyeliner. "Bucky!" The first guy said, opening his arms. "I thought you were dead!" 

"Sam, it was two weeks," Bucky complained. "Besides, you're the one who left, not me." 

Sam pouted. "And here I was thinking you couldn't live without me. I'm wounded, hear me? Mortally  _ wounded."  _

Barnes cracked the smallest of smiles-- a new expression for him-- and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. This is the new slave I told you about; his name's Clint, he's a pain in my ass, et-cetera." 

Both Sam and the new slave eyed Clint with intrigue, before the slave turned to Sam, smiling up at him sweetly. "Can I go say hi to Steve?" 

"Sure. We need to get going anyways." 

"He'll probably be in my room," Barnes added.

The slave scurried off, pleased to have gotten permission and pleased to be breathing the same air as his oh so generous master. Clint shook his head. He wasn't going to become like that; he swore it.

  
  


\-------------------------

**Steve **

  
  


Steve was in the living room and was just looking for Bucky and Clint when the door burst open and Peter ran in. 

"Peter!" Steve exclaimed, his surprise genuine. "You're back!" 

They hugged tightly, pulling away just to talk. "I can't believe Barnes got another slave! Do you like him?" 

Steve laughed. "Yeah, I'm the one who convinced him! He's my friend from home, Clint. We saw him at the market and I convinced Bucky to buy him." He glanced over to the window, but he couldn't see the others from where he was standing. "He's kind of a disaster, not going to lie. I didn't realize how much of a prude he was." 

Peter wrinkled his nose. "A prude?" 

"He tries to get me to cover up when I'm still wearing underwear." 

Peter snorted, then immediately covered his mouth with his hand. It didn't hide his grin. "Jesus. He  _ is  _ a prude." 

Steve grinned. He was really, really glad to have Peter back. Sam and his slaves had all been gone to some beach house for the past two weeks, and Steve was pretty sure he'd never missed anyone so much. Well, that may have been an exaggeration, but still. 

He caught Peter looking at his lips, eyes blown, and Steve grinned even wider, giving in. He grabbed Peter by the shirt collar and roughly pulled him in, giving him just a moment to regain his footing before kissing him. Peter kissed back instantly, pushing back against him and licking into his mouth. Steve grunted against him, but didn't try to pull away, instead giving as good as he got. 

He hadn't intended for the kiss to get as heated as it did, but he wasn't complaining when Peter shoved him onto the couch. Their lips parted for just long enough for Peter to straddle him, elbows on either side of Steve's head as the kiss continued on passionately. They rolled over, with Steve taking the more dominant role and pinning Peter down and pushing into his mouth. 

He was so focused on his task he hardly recognized the sound of the door opening. He did, however, recognize Clint's voice, filled with shock as he proclaimed "Holy shit."

Steve lurched up, making eye contact with Clint for a few long seconds. Then Peter giggled and pulled Steve back down, and well, Steve was in no mood to fight it. 

"Okay, okay," Bucky said finally, breaking them up. "Come on, you can suck face later. We have places to be." 

"Yeph Mm-ucky," Peter said into Steve's mouth, making Steve pull off to laugh at him. Bucky physically hauled him off the other boy, waggling his finger playfully. 

"Aw, come on," Sam complained. "It was just getting good!" 

Sam and Peter had been dropped off by one of the transport trucks, so they all filed around to the back to take Bucky's truck. Sam immediately called dibs on driving, which left the four of them to try and figure out how they were supposed to sit in the three-seat pickup when it was already ⅓ full. 

"Peter, Steve, in the back," Bucky decided. "Clint, you're with me." 

Clint gritted his teeth, but didn't fight it. Steve shrugged; he had no problem with the back. Except for the fact that it smelled like rotten peppers, but well, that couldn't be avoided. 

Peter and Steve immediately crammed themselves in the corner by the cab, holding on as the truck took off. Steve took the opportunity to actually look at Peter, now that they weren't trying to eat each other alive. He was wearing light pink eyeliner today, and for a moment Steve thought that was what made his eyes look bigger. But no, that wasn't it at all; Peter's pupils were naturally enlarged.

"Jesus Christ," Steve muttered. "You're high." 

"Only a little," Peter admitted. "Its a mild aphrodisiac. I've had a semi for the past 12 hours." 

"Has he fucked you?" 

Peter gave him a look like that was a stupid question. No, Sam hadn't fucked him, because wheres the fun in that? "He says it'll build anticipation. I'm so horny, I'm seriously considering trying to get myself off right now." 

Steve batted his eyes. "I could help? You don't think they'd notice if we fucked in the back of the truck, do you?" 

"We'll notice," Sam said gleefully; Steve hadn't realized the windows were rolled down. "But don't let us stop you." 

" _ Yes _ , let us stop you," Bucky corrected firmly. "Steve,  _ no. _ " 

"Aww, Bucky. You heard them; Peter needs it! I'd be doing him a service!" 

"I'll do your ass a service if I find out you broke my rule," Bucky threatened. "How do you feel about sitting without any pain? You like it? Then make good choices." 

"Bite my ass," Steve teased-- then yelped when Peter bent down and bit his thigh. 

Bucky reached through the open rear window and smacked Peter on the ass. " _ Bad." _

"Sorry sir!" 

Steve looked between them, his mind processing at half the speed. Bucky slapped Steve's ass sometimes, obviously, but never any other slaves. Most masters were too possessive for that. Sam and Bucky definitely blurred some lines, but  _ Peter  _ didn't even seem surprised by the touch. Did that mean..? 

Steve leaned over so he could speak to Peter without the masters hearing. "You and Bucky haven't… fucked, or anything. Right?" 

Peter flushed, ducking his head. "Of course not. Why would you think that?" 

Steve shook his head. "I guess I misinterpreted something."

  
  


—————————

  
  


Once they got into town, they parked and unloaded. Clint’s arms were bound behind him, and Bucky took ahold of him, guiding forcefully. Sam pulled Steve closer, slipping his hand through the back of his harness and wrapped his arm around his waist like they were prom dates or something. Immediately, Peter cuddled up to Sam’s side, cooing for his attention. Steve would have thought it was pathetic if he didn’t know that Peter did it for his sake— the more of Sam’s energy focused on Peter, the less it’d be focused on  _ him _ . 

They only went to stores aimed towards slaves, specifically the Dora Milaje tattoo parlor to get his claiming tattoo, and then the doctor’s office for his shots. During that visit, Clint started to get squirmy, fighting against Bucky in small ways, until finally Sam pulled Steve all the way on his lap. He positioned his thigh directly between his legs, rocking slightly against the plug in Steve’s ass, and Steve groaned, gritting his teeth painfully.

“Master,” Peter pleaded, voice sugary sweet. Trying to distract. “Can I please—”

“No. Kneel and be quiet.”

Peter did as ordered, shutting up and sinking down. Sam gave Steve another rock, and it was only when Steve’s eyes fluttered open again that he noticed that Clint was gritting his teeth. 

“You willing to be good now?” Bucky threatened. Clint nodded curtly. 

Sam pulled Steve back against his chest, not moving his leg out from underneath him. Steve tried to let himself drift like he sometimes did with Bucky, but it was harder with Sam. 

They had a few more stops after that, until finally, they got to go home. Clint was unbound and sent to the fishbowl, while the others stayed in the main room to say their goodbyes. “Thanks for helping out,” Bucky said, giving Sam another hug. “I appreciate it.”

Steve tried to duck away, but before he could there was a hand on his harness, pulling him closer. It wasn’t Bucky, but  _ Sam _ ; Sam pulling him close to his chest, Sam trapping him with his arm. Sam, with one hand wandering low. “I know one way you could show your thanks.”

Right as Steve tried to pull away again, there was a harsh pressure against his plug, and he instinctively leaned harder against Sam’s chest, feeling helpless. 

Bucky sighed. “I dunno, Sam.”

“Aw, come on. You said it yourself, he’s already stretched. I can even plug him up again when I’m done; what’s the harm?”

Steve was carefully pulled away, passed from chest to chest like a cat. Bucky took Steve’s chin, forcing him to tilt his head up. “Steve?”

Steve met his eyes, then shook his head subtly. “Sorry Sam,” Bucky explained. “Not today.”

Steve sagged against him. He wasn’t ready to be taken by Sam— probably wouldn’t ever be. Bucky could do whatever he wanted to him as long as he didn’t pass him around. Anything else, Steve could deal with.

  
  


——————————

  
  


Clint was fuming after he was released from his restraints, but instead of giving him a real punishment, Bucky just dragged him outside. Steve followed, worried, but Bucky just told him to get a blanket and a few pillows.  _ Jeez, was he going to make Clint sleep outside?  _

_ _ Apparently not. Instead, Bucky laid the blanket out on the ground and arranged the pillows— and Steve— until he was comfy. Then, referring to Clint, he said: “You’re too jumpy. Run some laps where we can see you, and we’ll talk when you’re tired.”

Steve watched Clint start to run, his calves aching in sympathy. Bucky sent him back inside to get snacks, and Steve grabbed some grapes. When he came back out, Fenris had started running alongside Clint, not even trying to trip him up.

“I got grapes,” he announced. Bucky grinned, popping one in between his lips and holding it there, batting his eyes stupidly. Despite himself, Steve grinned. “I hope you know you’re stupid.”

Bucky hummed, but continued preening at Steve until Steve finally gave in and kissed him, taking the grape from his lips. He bit down and the sweet juice instantly filled his mouth. “Oh wow, they’re actually really good.”

“They’re actually good,” Bucky mocked. “Who'da thought.”

Clint did a few more laps, just rounding the corner when Fenris bolted in front of him and Clint toppled over him. Steve winced in sympathy and popped another grape in his mouth. 

Across the field, Clint was on his back as Fenris lapped at his face. Steve frowned as Clint sat up, jerking his head back and forth and-- was he kissing Fenris? Was his kissing Fenris's nose?

"That's unhygienic," Steve decided. 

"You're unhygienic." 

Clint managed to get up, and jogged a few more paces with Fenris by his side before slowing to a walk. When he got closer, Steve could see the way his skin glowed with sweat, golden in the sun.  _ O _

"Sir," Clint greeted, with slightly less disgust than usual. "I'm tired. Can I stop now?"

Bucky hummed. "Come here." 

Clint followed his instructions, laying down by Bucky's side, looking up at Steve with a quick smile. Then Fenris ran over and crushed Clint's balls under one paw, and he squeaked in pain. 

  
  


\------------------------

  
  


They laid there in the sun for a little while. Clint pouted at being forced to sit so close to Bucky, but apparently it was better than running laps. Steve squirmed closer to Bucky when Fenris came over to sniff at him, but when Fenris returned to Clint, he ended up flopping on his lap, letting Clint scratch him behind the ears. 

"That's disgusting," Steve announced. "You don't know where he's been." 

Clint made kissy faces at the hellhound. "Aww, you're not disgusting baby. Don't listen to Steve." 

"He's right," Bucky declared, far too proud. "Fenris is a  _ specimen." _

_ _ "Hear that Fanny?" Clint babied. "Mean old Mister Barnes just called you a  _ specimen. _ I didn't know he knew words that big!" 

Bucky huffed, but for once, didn't retaliate. He rolled Steve closer, letting him rest his head on his chest while he rubbed his back. His lower back. 

His ass. 

Bucky pushed lower, feeling the knob of the plug through Steve's pants. "Alright Stevie, let's go inside. Clint, stay out here, I'll collect you when we're done." 

"I'll run away," Clint threatened, like an idiot. "If you make me wait outside. I'll do it." 

But Bucky just rolled his eyes. "No, you're not gonna run away. Not when I've got Stevie in my bed. Or, sorry. Over the couch." 

Steve felt his face heat up. Clint didn't need to hear that. "Come on, Buck. Let's just go." 

Clint's face as they left was one of betrayal.

  
  


\-------------------

As soon as they were inside, the curtains closed to block Clint's view, Steve pushed Bucky away. "I'm not in the mood." 

Bucky's face fell. "Why not?" 

"I don't know, maybe it has something to do with you humiliating me in front of my friend? Bucky, you can't just keep…" He hissed, trying to find the words. There had to be a way to say this that wasn't horribly offensive. "I'm embarrassed. You make me feel like I'm not a person when you talk like that, and… Clint just has to listen…"

Bucky took Steve's chin in his hand, making him look up at him. "You're not just a person, though; you're a slave." 

Steve glowered at him. "I think we both know that's not quite true." 

The air around them was charged. Steve waited, unsure how Bucky would react. It was possible that he'd get punished, but if he was honest, it didn't feel like the calm before the storm. It felt like the storm had already begun-- except the storm wasn't just Bucky, it was both of them, brewing and thundering together. 

Bucky moved his hand down from Steve's chin, sliding his fingers into the ring of his collar and pulling. Steve stayed still, not fighting as the collar tightened. 

"You know I love you, right?" Bucky whispered. Steve whimpered as he pushed specifically against his trachea, cutting off his breath just a little bit more. 

"I know," Steve replied, voice even softer than Bucky's. He was hard, and maybe he should've been ashamed. He wasn't, though. 

"Tell you what," Bucky decided. "You're not in the mood? Fine. Let's go to my room and you can nap and I'll read, alright? No fucking necessary." 

Steve gulped. "I don't think I want that."

Bucky's eyes flashed at the show of defiance. "Oh yeah?" He asked, stepping forward. "Then what do you want?" 

Steve carefully moved Bucky's hand, so he was still holding onto Steve's collar but not pulling anymore. Then he took Bucky's other hand, the one that was hanging low, and pressed it against his crotch. Bucky made a snide, satisfied chuckle at that, and pressed them closer. "I think I get it." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Another chapter, plus Peter! 
> 
> I'm definitely wanting to go more pro-Bucky with this fic. Obviously hes got some issues (coughs awkwardly), but dont we all? 
> 
> Sorry if that's not your favorite. It's an alternate fic for a reason :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Clint **

Clint expects every day to be worse than the last, which is why he’s surprised when things start seeming… normal. The truth of the matter is, as much as Barnes is a huge freak who takes advantage of Steve at every turn and has a collection of fetish gear that would rival pretty much anyone’s on earth— all that withstanding, he wasn’t actually that horrendous. He was a bad person, and an abuser and a freak, but he was also a farmer. He treated abusing Steve like a hobby, something he did for fun time to time, but not something he had to do every single day. 

He was still a bad person. But he was a bad person Clint could deal with. 

Every morning, Barnes either woke them up, or they stayed in bed talking until he did. Most nights Steve was allowed to share the bed with Clint, which he appreciated, except it meant that the nights where Barnes used him for his own pleasure were blatantly obvious. Those nights, Clint burrowed under the covers, hands to his ears— though he couldn’t hear anything anyway— trying not to imagine what was happening. That proved even harder than he expected, as the days dragged on and Clint learned more than he ever wanted to know about Bucky’s kinks. He liked fetishwear, harnesses and woman’s lingerie (though Steve insisted it was gender neutral). He liked bondage for the sake of bondage, and would sometimes blindfold Steve at random when he held him close on the couch. He liked gags too, but those were more for when he was annoyed, when Steve or, more often Clint, talked too much. 

There were others too. He liked choking Steve, though he pretended he didn’t. The first time he grabbed Steve’s collar and pulled it taut, Clint could’ve kicked his teeth in. “Hey,” he yelled from the couch. “He’s still got bruises there, fuck off.”

Barnes’ eyes flashed with anger, and Steve opened his mouth to try to fix things with pretty words, but Bucky just shook his head. He let go of Steve to drag Clint into the fishbowl, locking him in there, but keeping the walls transparent. Then he slammed Steve against the wall right next to the glass one, kissing him harshly and pulling on his collar roughly. 

There were a few things Clint learned from the situation. One, that Barnes didn’t like being told what to do, and two, that Barnes was petty as hell. 

Clint watched them for a few seconds, unable to tear his eyes away, until finally it was too much and he hid behind the bed. He stayed there until Steve came in nearly half an hour later, lips red and a brutal hickey on the side of his neck above his collar. “Hey. Do you mind if I join you?”

Steve was the one bright side in this entire shitshow of a situation. Seeing him hurt was pretty much the worst thing in the world, but at the very least, he kept getting back up. Steve never stayed down for long; really, Clint should’ve expected this from him. Not the slavery, but how he was making the slavery work for him. He had his whole game of pretend going on, making Barnes think he was happy, he didn’t mind his treatment. If Clint guessed, he would say that Steve probably kept that dull smile on his face all the way to Barnes’ room, while he cuffed him or blindfolded him or whatever. He probably kept that dull smile all the way up until he was told to get on his knees, open his mouth…

But Clint  _ wasn’t thinking about that.  _ He didn’t think about Bucky’s large hands on Steve’s bare flesh, didn’t think about how easily Bucky pulled him around. Didn’t think about their kisses, the way Bucky slipped his tongue in; didn’t think about their cuddles, the way Bucky pulled Steve close to his crotch, grinding against him. It was better not to imagine. 

Especially when Clint’s brainwashing started kicking in. Because he was being brainwashed, of that he was sure. He hated Bucky like he hated Hitler, but sometimes Bucky would give him a sly look, like when Steve lied to his face. He would roll his eyes, grin at Clint, and Clint would feel a strange sort of… kinship. Like  _ isn’t Steve ridiculous? Does he really think he can just get away with that?  _

_ _ At night, Clint was sickened to think about it. Bucky was the bad guy, and that was that. There could be no shared smiles, no shared exasperation. 

And then Steve got sick, and it was even worse, because this was always Clint and  _ Natasha’s  _ field. Steve could be bleeding out and would insist it was a paper cut; so when he started sweating and shivering, skin practically tinted green, he continued insisted it was  _ no big deal.  _

_ _ “Literally shut up,” Clint complained, trying to keep his voice down. They were on the couch, Steve bundled up in about five blankets, and Bucky was in the kitchen, making lunch. “You’re sick, alright? Just admit it.”

“Sick?” Bucky asked, because he was a dirty liar who pretended he didn’t eavesdrop. “Stevie?”

Steve groaned, nudging Clint with his elbow. “I’m not  _ sick.  _ Just leave me alone, alright?”

“Like Hell we will,” Bucky said, even though he wasn’t supposed to be a part of this conversation. He marched over, laying his hand across Steve’s forehead. “You’re too hot. You need to go to the doctor.”

Steve bared his teeth. “Take me to the doctor and I’ll bite your dick off.”

Clint tensed, preparing to block a hit if needed. But instead of getting angry, Bucky just cooed. “Aww, poor baby. Someone’s been spending too much time with Peter.”

Steve glared, but it had no weight to it. “I still don’t need to go to the doctor. I’m a little warm, so what?”

“So nothing,” Clint said, before Bucky could reply. “You just need a little water, that’s all.”

He carefully untangled himself from Steve’s mass of blankets, retrieving too cups of water from the kitchen. He tried to go fast so Bucky wouldn’t take his spot, and luckily when he turned around Bucky was leaning over the couch, not sitting on it. 

Clint quickly slipped back into his spot, giving Steve the glass of water. He started drinking his own, and only then did Steve start sipping his. Steve was halfway through when he sneezed. 

“That’s it,” Bucky decided. “I’m calling a doctor.”

“ _ Buckyyyyy,” _ Steve whined. “Just leave me alone, I’m fine.”

Clint opened his mouth to tell Barnes off, then closed it. At this point, Barnes would probably do the opposite of what he requested just to spite him; better staying quiet. 

“You’re fine,” Clint told Steve, putting his arm over his shoulder. “You’ll feel better after sitting for a while.”

Steve nodded, resting his head on Clint’s shoulder. Clint wiggled a little, getting comfortable as Steve leaned on him. Then he just let himself be quiet, and within five minutes, Steve was asleep. 

“He should still see a doctor,” Bucky said from the kitchen, though he made no move for the phone. 

Clint rolled his eyes. “Have you met Steve? He doesn’t listen to advice even in the best of times.” 

“I know what he’s like, and I can help him!”

“Really?” Clint challenged. “Because one of us got him to hydrate and rest, and it wasn’t you.” 

Bucky stomped forwards, looking like he might actually hit Clint, regardless of Steve napped against his chest. Instead, he just flicked Clint directly in the center of the forehead. “Know your place.”

“Know yours,” Clint agreed. 

———————

  
  


Steve slept against Clint’s shoulder for nearly an hour before they decided to move him. Clint wanted to bring him to their bed in the fishbowl, but Bucky refused, saying his bed would be better. 

“I’m not leaving him,” Clint insisted. 

Bucky scooped Steve up in one smooth motion, holding him close to his chest. “I don’t care.”

It was the first time Clint saw Barnes’ room. It was dark, but plain. Nothing about it was particularly incriminating; no bondage swings, no cages, no torture contraptions. 

Bucky dumped Steve on the bed, messing with the pillows and blankets until he was set up how he wanted. Once he took a step back, Clint climbed in beside Steve, cautiously tucking himself under the covers as his stomach rumbled. “Uh, could you make us lunch?”

Barnes let out a long-winded sigh. “You know, everyone said that life was easier with slaves. Less work.” He gave Clint a dirty look. “They were wrong.”

  
  


—————————

  
  


Clint and Bucky took turns taking care of Steve for the rest of the day, helping him pulling blankets on and off as his temperature shifted, and keeping him fed and hydrated. When Bucky kicked Clint out, he went outside and played fetch with Fenris. 

It was Clint’s turn to keep an eye on Steve when Steve awoke feeling a little better. He snuggled into Clint’s side, smiling up at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Clint teased, wrapping his arm around Steve’s back easily. “Have a good nap?”

“It was nice,” Steve admitted. “Feel better. Also, I like this. Waking up to you…” he blushed. “Waking up to you holding me. It’s nice.”

Clint laughed a little. “Yeah, I hear that. I like holding you too.”

“We had something, didn’t we?” Steve asked, voice soft. Clint felt his heart drop— Steve was really going to bring this up? Now? 

“‘Something’?” He clarified, voice hoarse. 

Steve nodded. “Something. A… flirtationship. Before everything happened, we weren’t… just friends, right? Or am I making stuff up?”

Clint inhaled. He’d been avoiding thinking about that ever since Steve disappeared, and now, seeing him everyday with Bucky, acting like some fucked up kind of lovers or something— it was better not to think about what could’ve been. But now they’re both here, and life is already so weird. 

“You didn’t make it up,” Clint admitted finally. “I… There was definitely something there.” Steve nodded, and looked like he was going to say something else when Clint quickly added “But aren’t you dating that Peter kid?”

Immediately, Steve burst out laughing. “Peter? God no, we’re just friends. Close friends, but…” he must have seen the doubt in Clint’s eyes, because he carefully backtracked. “Things are different here, you know that. People can care for more than one person. It’s like… open relationships. Peter is Sam’s slave, so really, Sam is the most important one, right? But then he and MJ are sort of like boyfriend and girlfriend, like, they care about each other in that way. And then, he has sex with everyone—”

“Everyone?” Clint interrupted. 

Steve blushed. “No, not  _ everyone.  _ I haven’t actually had sex with Peter, because Bucky doesn’t allow me to be with other pe...” he trailed off, apparently realizing he was entering dangerous territory. Clint was about to get angry about that— how dare Bucky control Steve?— but Steve quickly saved it. “The point is that it’s not unusual here for people to have multiple partners. It’s usually pretty casual. That’s what Peter and I are. We’re basically just friends who kiss.”

“Friends who kiss,” Clint repeated. “Wow.” It was a lot to take in, but he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved. He’d definitely felt some not-quite-friendly things when he saw Steve and Peter kissing. He’d never seen Steve like that, so excited and carefree. He wanted to make Steve feel like that. 

Steve was smiling up at him, like he’d finally had a good idea. He tilted his head up a little, wetting his lips. 

Clint felt a smile grow on his lips. “Aren’t you still sick?”

“You’re already in bed with me,” Steve teased. “I know you don’t give a shit about getting contaminated.”

“Hmm. You’re not wrong.”

And then they were kissing.

  
  


————————————

  
  


That night, they got ready for bed like they always did. Clint changed in the bathroom, then sat on the bed and watched as Steve stripped down without a care in the world. Bucky knelt behind Clint, cautiously taking out his hearing aids for him. 

They both climbed in bed, and Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple as a  _ goodnight _ . Right before he left the room, he flashed a quick sign at Clint:  _ brat.  _

_ _ Clint raised his fists in response, the universal sign for  _ fight me.  _ Bucky snorted, then left. 

Clint rolled onto his back, and Steve did too. Together they stargazed at the ceiling. 

Then Steve rolled over, and so did Clint, and Steve gave him a sly grin. No words were needed; Clint grabbed Steve and hauled him closer, their lips connecting instantly. 

“God,” Steve whispered. “Why did we never do this before?” At least, that’s what Clint thought he said. That’s certainly what he was thinking.

  
  


—————————-

  
  


**Bucky **

Bucky woke up in a cold bed. 

“I thought this wasn’t supposed to happen anymore,” he grumbled, but sat up normally, running a hand through his hair. 

He went through his morning routine, finishing it off with a shower and getting dressed. He pulled his still-damp hair back in a bun, and went to wake the boys up. 

They were both still sleeping when he came in, with Steve laying on his stomach, his head on Clint’s chest. Clint had one arm draped loosely over Steve’s back, just barely possessive. Bucky turned his nose up at it and pulled out his phone, taking a picture and sending it to Sam. 

**From Bucky: **

**<img attached> **

**From Sam: **

**Oh damn**

**Have I ever told you what a good friend you are??**

**Slavexslave is my newest kink**

**From Bucky: **

**Ew **

**From Sam: **

**Oh come on**

**Don’t tell me you’re not into it**

**<img attached>**

**<img attached>**

Bucky swiped through the pictures Sam had sent. The first was of MJ napping on Nebula’s shoulder in a car— probably from their trip. The next one was a stupidly well lit picture of Nebula on her knees in front of Peter. Bucky found himself zooming in on Peter’s expression, his head thrown back and mouth open wide. 

On the bed, Clint groaned, sitting up. He made a face at Bucky, asking “What are you doing?”, his voice still affected with sleep. In response, Bucky took another picture of his zoomed in face, and sent that to Sam as well. 

  
  


**From Bucky: **

**Your pictures woke him up. Rude**

**From Sam: **

**What were you doing with those pictures to wake the deaf up 8o**

  
  


Bucky smirked and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, going around to wake Steve up and overall ignoring Clint. He ruffled Steve’s hair, cooing at him to wake up, and was going to leave it at that until Steve’s eyes fluttered open, a gentle smile playing on his face. “Mm. Morning.”

Bucky groaned, climbing on the bed on top of him. Steve was  _ unbelievable _ , absolutely unbelievable, and he was all Bucky’s. 

Bucky leaned down for a rough kiss, catching Steve’s mouth in his. Steve seemed surprised at first, jerking away, but then he got into it, kissing back with vigor. Bucky rolled him the rest of his way onto his back and leaned down, taking what was his. 

There was a choked off, upset noise to their side, and Bucky sat up, making sure his hips were situated in a way that keep Steve pinned to the mattress. Clint was sitting up, looking astonished. Bucky pulled the hearing aids from his pocket, tossing the case to him casually. “Put those on and get out of here.”

He didn’t know how much of that Clint actually caught, but apparently enough, as he made himself scarce. As soon as he was gone, Bucky lunged for Steve, kissing him brutally. He pushed down Steve’s panties, throwing the aside, and attached his mouth to Steve’s neck, attaching a painful hickey there. “I want you.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s like six in the morning,” Steve complained, but didn’t object as Bucky rucked his T-shirt up to his collarbones, baring his chest. 

“Look at that,” Bucky said, spreading his palms over Steve’s bare skin. “Just look at you, baby.”

“Ugh,” Steve grumbled, and pulled Bucky back down. 

Bucky fucked him good and hard. He should’ve let him stretch with a plug first, but it wasn’t exactly an event that Bucky had planned. Still, he stretched him with his fingers for as long as he could bear. Steve felt so  _ fucking good  _ around him, tight as a fist. 

Steve came in spurts across his stomach, groaning as Bucky continued to pound his hole. Finally, Bucky hit the edge, and pulled out before he could come. He climbed up, sticking just his tip in Steve’s mouth, and it was Steve’s whimper of surprise, his wide eyes and accidental suck that had Bucky coming, in his mouth and on his face. 

Finally, he collapsed on top of Steve, his softening cock against the boy’s stomach. Steve groaned, rocking his head to the side, blissed out on the pleasure. 

Bucky gave himself a solid minute to lay on Steve, pinning him, before he finally made himself get up. It was the beginning of the day, after all. Once Steve was freed, he pulled his shirt back down, then used the shoulder of it to wipe the cum off his face. “Well,” he muttered. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I wasn’t planning it,” Bucky agreed. He clasped his hand around the underside of Steve’s knee, rubbing the soft skin there gently. “Get dressed. Clint and I will deal with the outside chores; you can wash the floor and call it good, alright?”

“Yes Master,” Steve intoned, stumbling a bit as he got up. He made a face, and Bucky laughed. 

“Ah, poor baby. Are you sore?”

“Kiss my ass,” Steve bit, and Bucky gave him a playful slap as he passed. 

———————

  
  


**Steve **

  
  


Steve took a hot shower after that, his legs trembling just barely. Eventually he just stayed under the spray, one hand resting against the shower wall. 

When he was done he got dressed, pulling on sweats and normal underwear. He scrubbed the floors, doing a less thorough job than normal just to get it done. Then he climbed on the couch, pulling his legs up to his chest.

"Hey Stevie-boy," Clint said as he came in, ruffling his hair. His voice was a little gentle, not quite as light as it could have been. 

Steve grunted in assent. 

"Clint, make breakfast," Bucky ordered.

"I'm not your fucking slave." 

Bucky smacked his ass, and Clint smacked him on the metal arm. Bucky laughed, shoving him toward the kitchen playfully. 

He plopped himself down next to Steve, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Hey babycakes. Do you think we should go and see a doctor? I just want to make sure you're alright." 

"I'm fine," Steve whispered. "Tired."

Bucky hummed and relaxed, one arm staying around Steve's shoulders. It felt normal, but also wrong. Not intrinsically wrong, it was just… Clint was right there, watching them. Steve had kissed Clint goodnight and then kissed Bucky good morning, and that wasn't something that could be explained away by the fact that 'Heidrun was weird'. Bucky expects monogamy, and whatever Clint wants, it's definitely not to be sharing Steve with Bucky. 

"Sam's birthday is coming up," Bucky said idly, rubbing circles onto Steve's shoulder. "I'm trying to decide what to get him." 

"Get him a whipping post," Steve suggested blandly. "That'd be nice. He'd like that."

He could feel two sets of eyes on him, and wanting to cringe under their critique. But Bucky just hummed. "Wow, someone's mean today." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Steve's lips before he could reply with something snide. "Clint, how's breakfast coming?" 

They talked a little, but Steve tuned them out. He would have to just sneak around with Clint until he found a better solution.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve and Clint managed to keep whatever it was they had under wraps for the next few days. It wasn't exactly hard; Sam had bullied Bucky into throwing a party at the farmhouse, and Bucky'd been scrambling to get it ready. There wasn't actually that much to prepare, but just the thought of having people in their house seemed to make Bucky want to blow a gasket. 

In the meantime, Steve and Clint played at being good. Clint found a point where he could be obedient without being especially polite, and it seemed to work. Steve warned him against challenging Bucky while he was stressed, saying that the punishment wouldn't be worth it, and Clint seemed to accept that. 

Finally, it was the big day. While Clint was out doing chores, Steve and Bucky got in a fight that ended up with Steve bent over his knee, getting his ass bruised by the metal hand. It hurt like hell, but it was Steve's own fault for not following his own advice. Luckily, they were done and Steve's pants were back up before Clint could come inside, so Clint didn't find out, which would've only added to the tension. 

Steve doted on Bucky for the rest of the day, trying to make jokes and tease him in a way that would distract him from the stress. Finally, it was time to get ready for real, and Bucky had something to actually do. He dragged Steve into the fishbowl first, stripping him and moving him around like a dress up doll. It was just a little humiliating, but Steve wasn't going to mention it.

Bucky got Steve into a pair of black panties, and then helped him pull on black thigh-highs. A garter belt was attached to Steve's waist and clipped to the thigh-highs to hold them up. Next, Bucky pulled a flimsy little skirt up. The fabric was made of high quality tulle, black but see-through, and going down from the smallest point of his waist to the bottom of his panties. It wasn't exactly made to conceal anything, that much was clear. 

For the top of the outfit, Bucky wrapped a dark cloth around Steve's chest and shoulders until it was secure, pinning it in place. It ended up basically being a tight wrap-around crop top. 

All in all, the tops of Steve's thighs, the strip of skin between his belly button and mid-ribs, and his arms were exposed. The outfit was pretty fucking stupid. 

"You gonna say something mean?" Bucky asked as they looked at the outfit in the mirror together. 

Steve hummed. "I don't know. If I do, will you spank me for it?" 

"Probably." 

"Then no, I think I'm just going to stay quiet." 

Bucky patted Steve's rump appreciatively. "Good boy." 

Next, it was time for Bucky to dress Clint. By the end of it, Clint was wearing a form-fitting shirt with capped sleeves, and a pair of leather not-quite-booty-shorts. They were longer than any shorts Steve was allowed to wear in public, which, rude. However, they were tight enough to show the outline of Clint's bulge, which was just rude. 

It just wasn't fair. Finally, after being friends for so long, Steve and Clint had managed to move onto the next step and admit their lingering feelings-- but only after they were already slaves to another man, and Steve was forbidden from fucking anyone but Bucky. It was straight up unfair; Steve didn't deserve this shit. 

Bucky got dressed then, looking more menacing than usual. He included the mask, and as soon as Steve got the chance to, he took the mask off to kiss Bucky deeply. When they were done, he hid the mask so Bucky couldn't hide behind it. Bucky seemed to know what he was doing, but he didn't call him out on it, so it worked.

Finally, people started arriving. Bucky had had Clint kneel by his chair-- and had used various leather binds to keep him there-- so it was just Steve and Bucky greeting people. Everyone seemed to come at once, leaving them rushing to play host. Sam was there with MJ and Peter; Valkyrie brought Gamora; Okoye brought Shuri; and even Loki was there with Peter. Wanda and Strange also ended up coming, and Wanda very kindly laughed at Steve's getup. "It's cute," she insisted. 

She wasn't the only one who noticed the outfit. As soon as he came in, Sam was whispering to Bucky, and as soon as Bucky seemed to agree to something Sam dipped Steve like a tango dancer and kissed him full on the mouth. He righted him quickly, with Steve announcing "Jesus Christ" as soon as their lips were separated. Peter laughed at his reaction, and they got out of the way to let more people in. 

Finally, the door was closed and they could attend to other duties. Steve made sure everyone had wine, and that the spread of food looked good, before checking in with Bucky. Clint was still kneeling at Bucky's feet, looking peeved but not angry. In the time since Steve had last seen him he'd been gagged with a panel gag, but that wasn't exactly a bad sign. 

Bucky sighed when he saw Steve, and patted his thigh. Cautiously, Steve climbed up, balancing with his legs on either side. It was an intense feeling, not quite stimulation, but more like the threat of stimulation. 

"You look like a dream," Bucky muttered in Steve's ear. Below them, Clint adjusted his position, his shoulder brushing up against Steve's calf. 

Steve tried for a smile. "Thank you, master. Is there anything else you want from me?" 

There wasn't, so Bucky dismissed Steve, giving him permission to go join the other slaves. They were in the fishbowl with the door propped open and Steve's-- or rather, Clint's-- bed pushed all the way against the wall to make extra space. That meant they were in full view of the party, though their voices would be muffled.

Steve came in to a cacophony of catcalls about his outfit. He very gracefully flipped them off, and plopped down directly in Peter’s lap, legs latching around his waist. Peter had been one of the ones making catcalls, and his eyes lit up with excitement as Steve sat on his lap. “Can I touch?”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

A second later, Peter’s hands were up Steve’s sheer skirt and on his ass, squeezing. Steve screwed up his nose, remembering only then about the spanking from earlier. The marks were mostly hidden by fabric, so they couldn’t really be seen, but hell, Steve could feel them. 

“I like the outfit,” Pietro decided, crawling over to where they were. “No, really. It’s more dignified than I think you deserve, but—”

Steve kicked him playfully, chuckling. “Fuck off.”

They all hung out for a little while, catching up and sharing stories, when Peter mentioned something funny they caught on video the other day. Steve went out to Bucky, asking to borrow his phone, and came back a minute later. Bucky had some features disabled on his phone when he gave it to Steve, but it wasn’t like he could do anything all that questionable with it anyway— the internet and phone service only connected to Heidrian lines, so no one on Earth could be contacted that way. Steve didn’t care; he just wanted to see the video. 

Peter showed them the video, which was even funnier than he’d suggested. Then, since they already had the phone with them, they looked at a few other videos on Sam’s channel, with Peter carefully navigating around the porn. 

“Sam went through this whole shower sex phase,” he announced, acting like someone complaining about their teachers at school. “It was so obnoxious. I couldn’t take a shower or bath for a week without him coming in. And he got creative, God, it was so annoying. He didn’t just want normal sex, he wanted fucking kinky sex. In the shower!”

Everyone groaned in sympathy. “Word to the wise,” MJ added, “Shower threesomes? They don’t work. Just… just don’t do it.”

“So, that was his old phase,” Steve said, nudging Peter gently. “What’s he into now? If you want to share, that is.”

Peter shook his head in exasperation. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure his thing right now is you.”

Steve sat up a little bit. He was sitting next to Peter at this point, one of his legs over one of Peter’s. “What do you mean? He barely sees me.”

MJ coughed awkwardly. “In real life, maybe. But the pictures definitely don’t help.”

Steve looked at her, trying to figure out how serious she was being. “Pictures?”

“Oh, drama,” Gamora said. “I think I’m out. Shuri?”

“Right behind you,” Shuri said, standing up. “Pietro, you coming?”

“Are you kidding? I bake bread for a living. This is the most interesting thing to happen all week.” He scooted closer, leaning forwards like they were some sort of reality show he was particularly invested in. 

Steve returned his attention to MJ, who looked slightly less comfortable, but not exactly embarrassed. “Yeah, pictures,” she said, looking at his ear instead of his eyes. “They’re not... bad.”

“Pictures,” Steve repeated. He didn’t remember Bucky ever taking pictures. What pictures?

He opened up the camera roll, clicking on the first one: a picture of him and Clint snuggling in bed, asleep. It was from only a few days ago, and must have been the morning after they kissed for the first time. 

That was the morning Bucky fucked Steve without enough preparation. 

After that was a picture of Steve sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a hoodie. The next was one of him stretching in front of the window, his lace panties on full display. “This is kind of creepy,” Steve noted. “He actually sent these to Sam?”

Peter nodded. “I wish he wouldn’t. It’s not helping; it’s like he’s teasing him. Bucky’s not going to let him fuck you; why play like that?”

Steve shook his head, puzzled. “It’s just… so weird. Like, why would he fuck me anyways? It’s just not normal for a different master and slave to get together like tha…” he trailed off at their looks. “Right?” Apparently not; Peter’s face made it very clear that he knew firsthand about masters sharing their slaves. “Okay, but it’s different with Bucky, he doesn’t get with anyone else’s slaves. Right?”

“Right,” Peter confirmed. “I guess it’s just different with him.”

Steve muttered his assent, but kept looking through the pictures. It seemed that there weren’t only ones that Bucky had taken, but ones that Sam had sent. There was one that had Peter and Nebula together, which Peter immediately cringed at when he saw. “God, that was so awkward. I hate doing scenes with Nebula; I’m pretty sure she’s asexual. Or if not, she’s gay.”

“I think she’s ace,” MJ chimed in. “Or aro. Or maybe gay, just not into me.”

“Ugh,” Steve muttered, but kept scrolling. Eventually he just went back to the main page, scrolling through the pictures without looking at each individual one. Before too long he got near the bottom, where he saw a flash of pink that looked out of place. He clicked on it and immediately frowned. 

“Oh, I don’t know if you want to look at that one,” Peter said, grabbing for the phone, but Steve blocked him, frowning. The picture was taken in Sam’s house; it took Steve a moment to recognize it, since he usually was only there when it was crowded with people. But it was Sam’s house alright. The picture was taken from across the living room, and showed Bucky lounging back on one of the chairs, his legs spread slightly and his head tilted down, hair in his face and mouth open. His hair was a little shorter than Steve ever remembered it being, not quite shoulder height. 

And then there was the red herring, that thing that really stood out to Steve. There was someone in between Bucky’s legs, wearing a pair of obscene neon pink panties. Just the top of their hair could be seen over Bucky’s thighs, and his hands were fisted in their brown curls. 

“Peter,” Steve said carefully. “Is that you?”

“Oomf!” Pietro exclaimed, rocking back joyfully. “Busted!”

Peter was beginning to go very, very pink. “It’s not, give me the phone!”

“Oh, it is!” Pietro said, practically singing. “Oh, you fucked yourself good, didn’t you? How long ago did you tell Steve you never fucked Bucky? Two minutes? Oh, that’s rough, that’s really rough.”

Peter's face was now flaming pink— quite a few shades darker than the panties in the photo. “Pietro, shut up! For once in your life, shut up!”

Steve looked at the screen one more time before Peter snatched it from his hands, turning it off and pressing it against the carpet. “It’s not my fault, okay?”

“Not your fault?” Steve repeated. “Peter— you lied to me! You told me that he wasn’t interested, he never touched you, and you— you lied.”

“I fuck everyone,” he defended, looking desperate. “You know that. I— I fucked Bucky, yes, but it wasn’t that often, and it was only before he got you. But it’s not a big deal! Really, I fuck everyone, I’ve fucked everyone in this room besides you, I’ve fucked Sam, I’ve fucked Loki—”

Pietro’s face immediately wrinkled in disgust. “You’ve fucked Loki?”

“—And just because I didn’t tell you doesn’t mean it’s some big deal! I just—”

Steve shook his head, standing. “It’s fine. Really, it’s fine Peter.”

Peter looked desperate, stumbling over his words. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I told you, it’s fine.” And it was. It was absolutely fine and normal, and really, Steve wasn’t surprised. He knew that Peter got around, he probably should have suspected that he and Bucky had… done things. Hell, Peter’s body type wasn’t all that different from Steve’s; maybe Bucky has a type. No, Steve wasn’t really upset at Peter. Peter just did as he was told, and he lied to Steve, because… because he thought it was best. 

No, Steve wasn’t angry at Peter. He was however, angry at Bucky. Bucky, who always acted so nervous around other people, who couldn’t even stand to take his mask off around some people. Bucky, who never showed any sort of desire for anyone but Steve. 

And Peter, of course. Because if Bucky wanted him— if Bucky wanted to fuck his face and use Peter to get off— then Bucky was allowed that. But if Steve wanted to fuck Peter, who actually wanted it with him— no, that wasn’t allowed at all. And if Steve wanted to kiss his friend, that he’d loved for years? Absolutely not. 

So Steve left the room, making a beeline for Bucky. Clint was still kneeling by Bucky’s feet, looking a little shaken, but Steve didn’t have a single ounce of energy to deal with that at the moment. He hovered at Bucky’s shoulder, getting his attention immediately. “Bucky. I’m upset; I’m going to your room and I’m locking the door, and I don’t want to deal with anyone else tonight. I’m done.”

Bucky frowned, but God bless him, didn’t ask. “Alright. We’ll talk when everyone’s gone.”

Steve nodded curtly and marched directly to the room, closing the door behind him. He turned Bucky’s bedside lamp on, giving the dark room a little more light. Suddenly, his clothes felt garish and ugly. He stripped down, pulling on one of Bucky’s shirts and some of his boxers, which were like shorts on Steve. He climbed under the covers, but didn’t sleep. The voices outside were too loud, and his collar was too tight. 

He and Peter had teased Clint for being a prude, but really, he wasn’t the prude: Steve was. Steve was the prude, the virgin. Even Bucky got to fuck who he wanted. Not that it was about the fucking; not at all. It was about freedom to touch and freedom to love. It was about bodily autonomy, a trait that Steve didn’t have. Which was, of course, evidenced by the collar around his neck. 

Eventually the noise outside died down, meaning people must have been leaving. A little longer and it was quiet, and a little longer after that the door was creaking open, with Bucky sneaking in. 

Steve sat up, his mouth and eyes dry. The sheets fell limply around his waist. 

“Sir,” He said quietly. The word was formal, distant. He either called Bucky by name, or if he wanted something, he called him ‘Master’. Not something as impersonal as sir. And yet, that was all Steve could get himself to call him. “Please take my collar off. It’s… too much tonight.” 

Bucky frowned, but sat on the bed beside Steve. He reached over silently and Steve did his best to stay still as he unlatched the collar, taking it away. Then he reached out to brush a hand across Steve’s cheek, and instantly Steve shrunk away. “Don’t touch me. Please. Not— not tonight. I can’t, please I’m sorry, I don’t mean—”

“Hey, shh—” Bucky was saying, but it was too much. Steve lurched up, out of bed and out the door, into the living room, but there was Clint, watching through the fishbowl. It was too much and there was no privacy, none, and Steve just needed to get out, so— so he did. 

He sprinted out, uncaring that he wasn’t wearing shoes. He didn’t close the door and he didn’t look back, but Bucky had to be there, those must have been his footfalls on the grass, or maybe it was just the echo of his own feet colliding with the ground. Either way, he ran faster, uncaring when he heard Fenris behind him. 

He sprinted into the barn, startling a few geese who’d decided to sleep there for the night. They squawked and snapped at him, but were too sleepy to actually attack, and before they got the chance to wake up enough he was up the side of one of the stalls. He climbed on top and onto the small hayloft. The loft had been unused for a long time, probably since before Bucky moved in, but it was dark, and the thin layer of straw was soft, and most importantly, he was alone. No one could see him there, no one could touch him. The geese ruffled unhappily, and Fenris patrolled on the ground, but not even they could touch him. It was like privacy. 

Bucky came into the barn a minute later, sounding out of breath. “Stevie?” 

He sounded angry, and Steve really, really didn’t want to deal with him, but at the same time, he knew how much worse it would get if he couldn’t find him. The idea of being truly alone and unaccounted for was appealing, but not realistic. “Up here,” he murmured, voice softer than it had been in a while. “I just need space. Please. Please, if you give me anything—”

Bucky huffed, but didn’t immediately start climbing up. “You ask me to take your collar off and then you pull this shit.” 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I… I just can’t handle it right now. Any of it. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause, and then a quiet grunt, almost like Bucky was clearing his throat. “You planning on staying here all night?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Really, Steve wanted to stay there for a lot longer, but he knew that eventually those feelings would fade. A few hours and he would be able to stand being touched again, he wouldn’t mind the collar, he could handle Bucky’s doting. Just… just not now.

“Alright,” Bucky said, his voice stupidly gentle. “I love you.”

Steve squeezed his eyes tighter. Maybe he could’ve screamed, except he wasn’t sure his voice could get that loud without ripping the rest of him apart. 

He whispered the next sentence quietly. He hoped that Bucky didn’t hear it, but Steve couldn’t hold it back: “Please go away.”

Bucky did. Fenris was still there, and the geese settled in, getting comfortable again, but Bucky left. And Steve was alone— collarless. How long had it been since he last felt this much personal freedom all at once? Months? Years? Maybe he’d been a slave all his life, and he just made the other stuff up. Surely he didn’t spend every night like this, once upon a time. This independence wasn’t a gift he recalled having. 

One might have thought sleeping in a hay loft would be uncomfortable. In truth, Steve was so exhausted and relieved, he fell asleep quickly, and every time he woke up, he quickly remembered his surroundings, and was able to roll over and sleep again instantly. Isolation wasn’t a good thing, but sometimes, a person truly needed to be alone. 

  


——————————

It ended up being the morning light that woke Steve up. He rolled over and sat up, rubbing his eyes, and that was when he remembered. 

The geese had all already awoken and left the barn, so all Steve had to deal with was Fenris, who lay in a lazy pile against the wall. He watched as Steve climbed down one of the stall doors, but didn’t get up, so Steve declared himself safe. He left the barn, rubbing his bare neck.

And— stopped. Right outside the barn door sat Bucky, cradled in a pile of blankets. He was awake, rubbing his face, and looked up when Steve passed. “Mmm. Morning.”

“Morning,” Steve said cautiously, wrapping his arms around him. “You didn’t have to sleep out here.” 

“You weren’t wearing a collar,” Bucky explained, “And I wasn’t going to risk you…” he trailed off, but it was clear what he meant. I wasn’t going to risk you escaping. It was a stupid idea, and Steve audibly scoffed at it. 

“I’m not going to escape.”

Bucky looked dubious. “You’ve tried before.”

“I’ve got nothing to escape to,” Steve admitted. “It’s too early for this shit. Can I shower?”

They went back inside, and Steve took a shower in Bucky’s bathroom, washing the dust from his body and straw from his hair. Clint wasn’t in the fishbowl when he got out, so Bucky must have sent him outside to do chores. Steve felt a little guilty, but he was thankful Clint was there to help with chores. Some mornings, you just didn’t want to weed. 

Bucky watched while Steve changed, arms crossed and leaning against the door. When Steve was done, Bucky let him take his pick of collars— he chose the slimmest, least intrusive one— and Bucky latched it on with gentle fingers. His hand strayed to Steve’s shoulder, landing there for a moment, as if testing the waters. Steve had been pretty aggressive with the whole no-touching thing the night before. Maybe he should throw him a bone. 

So Steve leaned into the touch, and when Bucky wrapped his arms around him, he leaned into that too. “Love you,” he muttered. Bucky made a vague pleased sound. 

“You wanna tell me what was up with yesterday?”

Steve made a face. Better not to think about it too hard. “Peter had been lying to me about something, and I was… upset. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

The last part was just for Bucky’s peace of mind, but it seemed to work. Bucky nuzzled Steve’s shoulder, and muttered some sympathies, asking if he needed to talk to Sam about it. No, he didn’t, and no, Steve didn’t want to cut Peter off. He was still his friend, he still cared about him. He was just frustrated. 

Bucky accepted that, and let Steve go, giving him space to do the rest of his chores. There was still some cleanup from the night before to do, so Steve worked on that, letting his mind wander as he did. There was still a problem he needed to solve. 

He finished his chores before Clint did, so with Bucky’s OK he went out to check in with Clint. He hadn’t talked to Clint since before the party, and no doubt he’d be wondering what was going on. 

He found Clint working on the last row of peppers, nearing the end. They were about as far from the farmhouse as they could get, which Steve appreciated. “Hey,” he greeted. “Look at you. A working man.”

“Hey,” Clint said, like he wasn’t interested in taking any of Steve’s shit. “What happened?”

Steve flinched without meaning to. “Doesn’t matter.”

Clint stood, and Steve was reminded again of that little trait they shared— stubbornness. “Yes it does. We’re in this together, you know that. I need to know—”

“I got upset about something with Peter. He lied about something. It made me realize something. I’m dealing with it now, I’m fine, really, I just needed space last night. That’s all it was.”

Clint frowned a little, but he seemed to believe Steve. “I’m sorry that happened.”

Steve gave a little half-shrug. “It’s fine. I think I needed it to happen.”

Clint sighed and sat down, and Steve joined him, side by side. He didn’t realize Clint’s hand was moving until he felt his face being tilted toward him, and then they were kissing. Steve hesitated for a moment, then gave Clint a soft kiss before pulling back. “I don’t think… let’s just take a short break from that, okay? Just give me a minute. I’m trying to figure something out and—”

“I get it,” Clint said, looking like a dog that’d been kicked. “It’s because of your thing with Bucky. I understand, really.”

Steve blinked. “Um. No? It’s— things are weird, alright? Give me a few days to figure things out.” 

Clint curled up a little, looking even more dejected. Steve waited, but he didn’t say anything, so Steve shook his head and stood, walking away. If Clint was going to mope, Steve would let him mope. He had shit to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh! Shit's happening!
> 
> Some memorable moments:  
\- Bucky’s first time hosting a party  
\- Clint's first time at a party (and even if he didn’t get to interact with the other slaves, he got to see them and how Steve was interacting)  
\- Sam has a new obsession (oops its Steve)  
\- Peter's a lying liar who lies and Pietro is just here for the drama (let’s apprecate that comment about how he 'bakes bread for a living, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to him for months')  
\- Steve having A Moment and needing Space (and Bucky’s reactions)
> 
> What fun stuff. I don’t know what happened exactly, but right now I’m on a roll. What is this? Plot? Drama? Canon divergence? 
> 
> Get ready for some fun drama and even more exciting pairings, and please let me know if you have any predictions! Also, fun fact, Steve wasn’t the only one who made some realizations at the party. I’m not saying who the other person was, though (*cough* it’s Clint). 
> 
> Next chapter coming soon!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a teeny tiny chapter but I wanted to end it where I did so people would have a chance to react/make requests. Enjoy!

**Clint **

  
  


All things considered, Clint was adjusting well. He had gotten better at dealing with Barnes, and managed to avoid a punishment for  _ multiple _ days. He had found himself less offended by Barnes' general vicinity, with was good, because their house was very very small. And he had gotten used to some of Barnes' quirks; like his insistence for dressing them, for example. 

He wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Barnes shoved Steve out of the fishbowl in nothing but glorified lingerie, but appreciated when he was given something akin to normal clothes. He was less appreciative when Barnes made him kneel by his feet all night, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

Clint didn’t know how Steve did it. He’d seen Barnes make him kneel multiple times, and Steve always seemed to sink into the role, relaxing and daydreaming like that was just part of his normal routine. For Clint, it felt nearly impossible. He shifted, tugging lightly at the bonds, which stubbornly held. He listened to every conversation— every one that was in English, that was— and when people came up to talk to Barnes, he stared at them for what must have been too long. One of the women he remembered from the tattoo parlor came up to him and asked Barnes something, and Clint answered, introducing himself, which was apparently not the correct move. As soon as she was gone, Clint was scolded, and Barnes wrestled him into the panel gag. 

Eventually he settled down a little, even though the position wasn’t exactly comfortable. It helped when Barnes started scratching his scalp. Back home, Natasha would do that sometimes when she wanted him to relax, so Barnes doing it must ave triggered a Pavlovian response. Either way, he calmed down, and Barnes kept it up, making everything just a little more bearable. 

Until Loki came over. “Oh my,” he said, voice high and sarcastic. “I see you got  _ another  _ one.”

“I did,” Barnes agreed. He made it sound like he actually meant  _ yeah, so? _

_ _ Loki sniffed. “Rumor has it you don’t like him very much. Of course, that’s to be expected with a low level of training. I’d be happy to take him under my wing, maybe help with his little discipline problem?” He stroked a finger along Clint’s cheek, less like affection, and more like he was trying to feel his bone structure. 

_ No.  _ Clint didn’t know Loki, but he knew that he didn’t want what he was offering. Barnes couldn’t seriously be considering it, could he? 

Barnes leaned back in his seat, his calf firm against Clint’s side. He crossed his arms. “What exactly would you do?”

Clint looked back, his eyes wide.  _ No, don’t listen to him! _

_ _ Loki grinned. “Oh, I have a variety of methods available to my disposal. It depends what you want! Do you want an obedient labor slave, as you keep insisting? Or, if we’re being honest, are in want of another pleasure slave? I promise you, I can get him up to your standards. Give me a week, and he won’t only be obedient… he’ll  _ want it.” _

_ _ He couldn’t be serious. Clint could guess what sort of ‘training’ Loki’d be interested in. The worst part was, it was a good offer— from Barnes' point of view, anyways. Clint knew Barnes didn’t like him, knew he annoyed him. Loki was offering to take him away for a week, leaving Barnes and Steve alone to do whatever Barnes wanted, while at the same time, not getting rid of him for good. And then Clint would come back easy to mold and quick to obey, scared into submission. Everyone won. 

Except for Clint, of course. 

Barnes made a noise at the back of his throat. “What’s in it for you?”

Loki shrugged. By this point he was on one knee in front of Clint, his hands wandering. He brushed over Clint’s chest, looking particularly pleased when Clint jerked back. “Now isn’t a good time for me to commit to a new slave. But oh, I do love training them.” He prodded Clint’s side, making him twitch back, pressing himself harder against Barnes' leg. 

Finally, Barnes sighed. “No, I don’t think I’ll be taking you up on your offer. Clint is plenty obedient as it is— isn’t that right?” He put his hand on Clint’s head, and Clint immediately rocked into it. It made him feel like a dog, but better a dog than a toy for Loki to get off on. 

Loki got up stiffly, seeming displeased. “Fine. But you will let me know if you change your mind.” 

He left, and Barnes carefully pulled Clint in between his legs, cupping his face in his hands. “I don’t think you’re a bad slave,” he murmured, voice low so no one else could hear. “And you don’t deserve what he wants to do to you. I’m your master; that means I have a duty to keep you safe. And— and Steve seems happier with you here, alright? I think it’s good for him to have… a friend. I can’t give him… everything he needs. But you can help. Together, I think we can be a good… a good team.” 

Clint didn’t respond, as he was still gagged. But in a way that was nice, because he wasn’t sure how he would have responded if he could. It was almost as if Barnes was a  _ person.  _ He couldn’t give Steve everything he wanted, and he acknowledged that Clint could help. He thought they could be a  _ team.  _

_ _ It was more than Clint ever expected from Barnes. From  _ Bucky.  _

_ _ And then Steve came over, looking empty and upset, and said he was going to hide in Bucky’s room and wanted to be left alone. Across the room, from inside the fishbowl, Clint could see Peter looking anguished, but he couldn’t figure out what happened. 

  
  
  


————————————

  
  


The next morning, Steve explained that he and Peter got in a fight. Clint said he was sorry, and tried to kiss him, but Steve rejected him. “Just give me a few days,” he said, “I’m trying to figure something out.” 

It hurt, because Clint knew what Steve’s problem was. He was torn between being with Clint and being with Bucky, and for the first time, Clint understood why Bucky was a contender at all. 

——————

  
  


**Steve**

  
  


Steve was good for the rest of the day. Well, good wasn’t the right word— he was affectionate. He spent the day making up for the night before, making it clear that yes, he wanted Bucky to touch him, yes, he was back to normal. When it was time to go to bed, it looked like Bucky was going to allow him to sleep with Clint, but before he could make the offer Steve requested sharing Bucky’s bed instead. They curled up together under the covers, and that was where Steve set his plan in motion. 

“Do you have a birthday gift for Sam yet?” 

Bucky rolled onto his side to face Steve, resting his head on his metal arm. “No, and it’s driving me mad. I just want to get him something good; he deserves it.”

_ Yeah, sure buddy. Whatever you think.  _ Steve gave Bucky a shy look. “What if you gave him me?” 

Bucky sat up immediately, and Steve realized he’d said that really, really wrong. “I mean, I mean for a night! You… let him borrow me. I know he’s been asking you, and you said you wanted to do something special—”

“I do,” Bucky agreed, “But you said you didn’t want to.”

Steve chewed on his lower lip, trying to figure out the best way to phrase this. “I was actually hoping we could make a… a deal. A trade.”

“A trade.”

Ah, fuck it. “It’s just that I’m close to some of the other slaves and I’d like to be able to grow closer. Um. Sexually.” Bucky stared at him. “A few months ago you told me I could only have sex with you, but that was before we were really close. And now we are close, and we understand this is a… long term arrangement. So maybe if I agreed to fuck Sam, you’d let me… fuck other people too.”

“Wow,” Bucky said when he was finally done, laying back down. “You realize that Sam’s an exception in my book, right? I don’t want anyone else touching you, but he’s in a different league. I’d do anything for him.”

“I know,” Steve said, trying to make his voice gentle. Sam and Bucky had a weird fucking relationship, but he wasn’t going to question it. “And I want to help you. I just think that it’s only fair I get something in return, and this is something I really want.”

Bucky shook his head, but luckily it seemed to be in confusion, not denial. “I don’t want to whore you out.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Steve insisted, even though, yeah, he would. “I would only be fucking other slaves. And we could do it wherever you wanted. Here, the fishbowl… you could watch.” It was a longshot, but Steve was hoping the thought of being a voyeur would appeal to Bucky. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t like that idea. Me and Peter, both naked, going at each other while you watched every move…”

Luckily it seemed to work, and Bucky groaned, pulling Steve close, his breath hot on his skin. “Jesus, Stevie. You don’t know what you do to me.”

Steve grinned a little. “It’d be fun, don’t ya think? You get to see me and Peter together, and in exchange, I’ll fuck Sam. You think he’ll be excited when you tell him?”

“Sweetheart, he’ll be over the moon. So that’s it? You agree to have sex with Sam, and I let you fuck whoever else you want?”

“Any other slaves,” Steve corrected. “You’ll let me be with any of them, including kissing. Whoever I want.”

“I already let you kiss whoever you want,” Bucky argued, but it was without objection. “Sure. You can kiss and fuck any slaves you want. I suppose I can make that concession.”

Steve leaned down, taking his time kissing Bucky. When he pulled back, it was with a smile on his face. “Thank you, master. I knew you’d understand.”

He could kiss or fuck any slaves he wanted, which yes, included Peter. But it also included the slave in the other room, sleeping alone. 

Bucky just gave him explicit permission to be with Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in copy-betaing for me, please let me know! Benefits include early access to chapters and the knowledge that you're helping a sad sad author in need. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts, again I know this chapter was tiny but I wanted to get it out there. Let me know if you have any steve/Sam requests!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a fun time with Steve.

Bucky told Sam the next day, and the day after that, Steve was packing an overnight bag. Clint lurked by the door, watching. “Where are you going with that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said easily. He looked up and sent Clint a quick grin. Things had been a little tense between them the past few days, but they would be better once Steve came back and was officially allowed to kiss who he pleased. Once the deed was done, there’d be no take-backsies. Bucky will have given him his official permission to be in a relationship with Clint. It was the perfect plan. Well, almost perfect. Steve still had to fuck Sam, but hey, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. If anything, it almost felt  _ right.  _ All those months ago, it had been Peter who fucked Steve’s master. Now, it was Steve’s turn to fuck  _ Peter’s  _ master. At last, the world was almost at balance. 

Clint was called to the living room, and when Steve came out a few minutes later, he got to hear the rear-end of Bucky’s speech. Strange nodded as Bucky told him when to feed and water Clint, and what to do if he scratched up the couch or peed on the floor. And then, just like that, it was time to go. Bucky smacked a kiss on Clint’s ear, probably just to watch him squirm, and Steve gave him a little wave as they headed outside. 

Steve felt nervous as he walked with Bucky down the drive to meet Sam, though he knew he shouldn’t be. The day before, they’d discussed ground rules, and Steve trusted Sam to at least try to follow them. The rules stipulated that he wasn’t allowed to hurt Steve; he had to stretch him and use lube; and he couldn’t use any toys Steve hadn’t had experience with. Anything else, Steve could handle— right?

They took Sam’s truck, which had a small backseat. Steve was hustled into the front seat, sitting next to Sam with his thigh pressing against the gearshift, and Bucky slid in the back, resting his elbows by Steve’s shoulders. 

“How old are you gonna be?” Steve asked shyly, hoping he was allowed to talk. It seemed like a safe topic, since he was technically Sam’s birthday gift. 

Sam just laughed. “I stopped counting a while ago, you know how it is.”

_ No,  _ Steve thought, _ I really don’t.  _

_ _ “Doesn’t mean I don’t get to celebrate,” Sam added. His hand found and squeezed Steve’s thigh, a little too high up for comfort. “When’s your birthday?”

“Um… July 12th,” Steve lied, making eye contact with Bucky in the rear view mirror. Bucky would probably remember that the 4th of July was an American holiday, and Steve really didn’t want to deal with that right now. 

“A summer birthday,” Sam said cheerily. “That’s nice.”

Bucky put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, making him flinch at the unexpected contact. “It is nice; Stevie hates winter.”

Steve scowled. “S’not my fault you don’t have indoor heating.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun next month,” Sam sang. “Just you and two slaves, desperate to share body heat. Oh no, I can’t imagine.”

"Horny bastard," Bucky teased fondly. "Get your mind out of the gutter." 

"Absolutely not; the gutter is exactly where my mind is supposed to be right now," Sam claimed easily. "In fact, we should get started."

"Get started?" Steve squeaked. He'd mentally prepared himself to be fucked in a bed after they'd gotten to Sam's house, not… whatever this was. 

Sam nodded, his hand straying higher and unbuttoning Steve's pants. Bucky moved into action too, taking Steve's arms and pulling them up, out of the way. With expert fingers, Sam pulled down Steve's fly and carefully pulled him out, giving him a few gentle strokes. Then he just kept hold of Steve's cock, squeezing from time to time, and moving on completely to talk to Bucky about new fashion trends. 

Steve was hard and leaking by the time they got to Sam's house. He was escorted out, and tucked himself back into his pants while they weren't looking, desperate to avoid humiliation. Sam didn't seem to mind, though he did grab on to Steve's crotch, pulling him along like a mother dragging their kid by the ear. 

Inside, the other slaves were all milling around the living room. This time, Steve couldn't help but go red at them seeing him like this, Sam's intentions with him very clear. He scanned around, hoping Peter wasn't there, but unfortunately the boy sat on one of the couches, looking defeated as he played a game of chess with Nebula. He wore a panel gag-- the only one of the slaves with any sort of restraints or deprivation-- and upon hearing them enter, looked up with wide eyes. 

"You know the drill," Sam said easily, addressing the room at whole as he dragged Steve up the stairs. "No interruptions."

A few of the slaves nodded in understanding, and Sam turned back around, ignoring them. "Why is Peter gagged?" Steve asked quietly. 

Sam answered like it wasn't even a big deal. "He's been getting too mouthy lately, he thinks he can get whatever he wants if he just smiles and says some pretty words. The gag is to remind him of his place."

"Oh," Steve said, not really sure how else to respond. 

At the top of the stairs, Bucky said goodbye to them and went to his own room to relax, away from them. Despite this, Steve doubted he would hear any cries for help, or that he'd respond. This wasn't about Steve, after all. 

Next, Sam lead Steve into what must have been the master bedroom. Steve recognized it from some of the videos online; it was large, with a king sized bed, an easy chair, a couch, a few pieces of bondage equipment, and an assortment of drawers. Steve thought about the drawers in his room, and how many things Bucky had hidden in them. Sam had at least three times that. 

"Take off your clothes and get on your knees," Sam said, giving the orders like it was second nature to him. Steve bit his lip, but followed the commands, taking off everything but his underwear. He didn't quite want it off yet, and besides, Bucky had wanted Sam to see it. 

Sam turned around, raising his eyebrows at Steve appearance. He walked right up to him until he was looking straight down to meet Steve's eyes. His foot raised, pressing against Steve's navy-lace covered crotch slightly. "Are you disobeying on purpose?" 

Steve licked his lips. Sam was close now, and Steve could feel the strength he gave off, the control. "Yes sir." 

As Sam watched, Steve got out of his position, instead turning over onto his knees and elbows, and raising his ass into the air. The jolt of air against his sensitive skin made him twitch, but otherwise, he held the position, showing off. From the front, the panties looked normal, but in the back they were split, allowing easy access to Steve's plugged hole. 

Sam made a pleased sound, grabbing Steve's ass and squeezing the cheeks together, prodding at the plug. "I'm guessing this was Bucky's idea?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Good man," Sam said pleasantly. He grabbed Steve by the collar, hauling him to his feet and into a kiss. Steve jerked against his hold, but quickly reciprocated the kiss, trying not to seem too panicked. Sam had wanted sex, and apparently, this was a part of it. 

They kept kissing for a long time, with Sam twirling his tongue and exploring Steve's mouth, invading him with a practiced ease. He shoved them onto the bed, and kept kissing for a while longer, until eventually letting his kisses trail to Steve's neck. He bit down, and Steve had to fight back the urge to slap him away. Only Bucky was supposed to mark him like that. 

"Sam," Steve gasped, after he decided he couldn't very well push Sam away, but could at least warn him. "Bucky doesn't. He doesn't like when other people mark me."

Sam made a cooing noises, like he thought he was cute. "Aw, that's cute. But your master has already told me the rules. Everything else is fair game, and I don't need you worrying about that right now."

Steve swallowed, but accepted it. He added a quick "yes sir!" when Sam slapped him twice on the thigh, but otherwise he kept silent. 

Sam left a trail of hickeys on his neck before getting up, apparently ready to move on. He stripped easily and sat down on a chair in the corner of the room, legs spread. "Come 'ere; you know what I want." 

Steve got up to his elbows, looking at Sam from across the room. He already felt tired, worn out just from the play in the car. He eyed Sam's cock cautiously. He was hard, cock jutting up unapologetically, already slick with lube. 

Steve pulled himself up, making himself go over to where Sam was. He felt flustered as he climbed onto his lap, having to spread his legs wide to make it work. All the while, Sam just sat there, watching Steve with relaxed intrigue, making him do the work. Steve pulled the plug out of himself with a small wince-- it was a big plug-- and was about to set it to the side when Sam said "wait." 

He took the plug from Steve's hands, and easy as anything, pushed it into Steve's mouth. Steve grunted around it, flushing red from humiliation, but didn't fight it. He wasn't interested in receiving a punishment from Sam, not when there was so much on the table. 

Sam wrapped a hand around his cock, holding it straight and aligning it with Steve's hole. When it was in place, Steve forced himself to sink down, making garbled noises around the plug in his mouth as it stretched him further. At a certain point, he fell full, and tried to pull back up, but Sam tsked and pushed him down harder. "That's it, baby. All the way." 

'All the way' turned out to be a few more impossible inches. Finally, Steve bottomed out, feeling the cock invading his abdomen. It was too deep, wide and firm against him, stretching his hole out. Steve tried to imagine what it looked like, Sam's dark cock forcing his little hole open wide. Steve was still wearing the cutout panties too, the fabric pushed out of the way enough to give Sam's cock access. 

Steve whined, and Sam grabbed the base of the plug in his mouth, using it like a handle to force Steve to look at him. When he saw Steve's face, he cooed. "Look at you, already all worn out. Don't tell me you're tired?" 

Steve shook his head,  _ no sir,  _ but it was at least partially a lie. Sam cooed again, and grabbed both of his cheeks, pulling them apart so Steve sunk impossibly lower. "Yeah, you better not be," Sam said, interpreting Steve's noises how he liked. "Go on. Fuck yourself." 

Steve lifted his hips, rolling them gently. He put his hands on Sam's shoulders for balance, then started fucking himself, riding Sam timidly until Sam decided he'd had enough of that and reached down, grabbing handfuls of flesh and panties. He pried Steve's cheeks apart painfully and used his grip to pull Steve up, fucking into him. Steve yipped around the gag, digging his fingers into Sam's bare shoulders. Sam removed the plug from Steve's mouth, freeing him to make as many noises as he wanted, and Steve wasn't sure if he appreciated it or was bitter about it. 

Sam took control so easily. It was nothing like Steve had ever seen before. Sam slid into a role of complete dominance like some people slipped into a t-shirt. Not even Bucky was this confident when ordering Steve around. Sam acted like he knew how to give orders, knew what he wanted to order, and knew that Steve wouldn't be stupid enough to defy his commands. He was confident in taking whatever he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was everything Steve had.

Sam spread his legs wider and fucked Steve savagely, his hands  _ everywhere.  _ At one point, he grabbed Steve's collar and used it to yank him down into a kiss, dominating his mouth. With his other hand he reached under Steve and lifted him up, making his back arch and dragging him almost all the way off his cock. Steve gasped, clenching, but Sam didn't fully unseat him-- instead, he held Steve up, his hole spread open by just Sam's crackhead. His hole fluttered, and his muscles strained, but Sam didn't make any move to lower him again.

Sam took one of Steve's hands, bringing it up to Steve's mouth and giving him the order to  _ lick.  _ Steve didn't know why he wanted him to, but he obeyed, sucking his own lean fingers into his mouth, wetting his palm with his tongue. Then Sam took Steve's hand and brought it down to Sam's cock, which was mostly revealed, just the cockhead still impaling him. He had Steve stroke him, and Steve physically felt his cock twitch with pleasure inside of him. 

Then, without warning, Sam slapped his hand away and slammed Steve back down. Steve screamed, and Sam muffled his noises with his mouth, licking and sucking. 

Finally, Sam took Steve's hand and brought it to Steve's cock, directing him to start stroking himself. Steve did, giving himself a few firm strokes as his prostate was pounded into, and within moments he was coming. It was so harsh, so intense, and what was worse was that Sam  _ didn't stop.  _ Steve finished, curling up from the overstimulation as Sam continued pounding into him, fucking him like he was angry. He wrapped his hands under Steve's knees and used the new point of leverage to fuck him harder, until Steve was sobbing, his over-sensitive prostate getting battered with every painful thrust. Then Sam slammed him down to his base and came, filling him up. 

Steve panted, going limp against Sam's body. Sam was breathing hard too, but not nearly as hard. He was still seated deep inside Steve, and he rubbed Steve's stomach, making pleased sounds. 

Finally, he pulled Steve off, dragging him to his feet. Steve leaned heavily against him, all fucked out and tired. But he'd done it, he'd taken it, he'd did what he said he would do, and he was proud.

Sam flopped him over onto a padded bench, stomach first, and Steve gratefully slumped over. He could feel the cum oozing out of him, some of it soaking into his panties. He'd stained the front of the lace too, when he came on his stomach. 

Steve groaned a few times.  _ Fuck,  _ that was a lot.

Sam came back a moment later, ragging the panties off of Steve and setting them aside. He adjusted Steve on the bench, making it so he was resting on his chest with his legs spread on either side of the bench, sensitive cock against the cool leather padding. Sam tipped a cup back and Steve drank greedily, wrapping his small hands around Sam's so he wouldn't pull away. Sam chuckled, but allowed it. 

Once the water was gone, Sam took away the cup and pressed something else to Steve's face. Steve closed his eyes, not mad at it. It was a cool, smooth material, and it felt nice on his skin. Then Sam moved something around to the back of his head, and was buckling something in place, so Steve opened his eyes, reaching his hands up to feel it. He got just a light touch before Sam was shoving his hands away, finished attached the harness quickly, and Steve couldn't help but whine. He was only made to wear a head harness one other time, and it was absolutely humiliating. It felt like being treated as livestock-- or breeding stock, more like. 

The head harness was all leather straps, locking around Steve's skull cruelly. One strap went down the center of his forehead, diverting at his nose, and acting almost like a horse's blinders, restricting his peripheral vision. But the harness didn't gag him, and didn't actually blind him, so Steve wasn't sure of the exact purpose. 

"Arms up on the bench," Sam ordered, and Steve followed instructions, putting his forearms up in order to lift himself partway off the bench. It took some effort, as the bench was too high for his feet to touch the ground, legs spread as they were. Steve could feel the come dripping out of his ass and sliding down the back of his balls. 

"Open," Sam instructed, and Steve's droggy, exhausted mind obeyed instinctively. But Sam didn't put his fingers in Steve's mouth, or even his tongue-- he slid his cock in Steve's mouth, muffling his upset grunt. He grabbed the top of Steve's head-harness, getting a chunk of his hair with it too, and pulled, forcing Steve to tilt his head back and allow Sam access to his throat. Sam pushed his cock in slowly, waiting until he was about halfway in before stopping, but not letting go.  _ Now _ his breath was getting a little ragged, especially as Steve dragged his tongue along Sam's cock. "Alright," Sam said, wetting his lips. "Bucky, get in here."

Steve flinched hard, but Sam didn't remove his cock and didn't loosen his grip, forcing Steve to keep his head in place. He could hear though, hear as the door squeaked open and Bucky let out a little breath. "Oh, baby," he whispered. 

Steve could practically hear Sam's grin. "He's pretty, isn't he? You could keep him like this. All spread open, held down, leaking…" 

"I could," Bucky agreed, and Steve flinched again as he felt Bucky stick a few lazy fingers in him, pushing some of the leaking come back in. "Stevie… look at you baby. Damn. So fucking sexy like this." 

Steve sucked in a breath, unintentionally sucking around Sam's cock. Sam moaned, then pushed Steve down further, the tip of his dick pressing directly against the back of Steve's throat. Steve grabbed onto his bare hips, trying to push him back, but Sam was unaffected. "Come on Buck, get in here." 

Steve choked, finally pulling back enough to get a full mouth of air. He gasped, trying to swallow some of the saliva that was wetting his mouth, but as soon as he'd caught him breath Sam pushed his cock back in Steve's mouth, holding him there with the head harness. 

Finally, Steve's head got back in the game and he started actually sucking, working his mouth around Sam's cock. Just as he had established a rhythm, he felt something pushing at his hole and choked again. 

Bucky slid in smoothly, openening Steve's hole back up. Steve struggled, his dick rubbing against the leather, and then cried out as Bucky thrust in. Above him, he could hear Bucky moan, long and low.

"Thats right," Sam said, using the harness to bob Steve's head. "Just take it." 

Steve's hole burned, and his jaw ached, but he accepted it, finally able to lean into the pain. He let Sam maneuver his head, and did his best to suck around him, suppressing his gag reflex so Sam could push in deeper. Behind him, Bucky was thrusting vigorously, all the way inside him and pulling out just enough to slam back in, balls slapping against his skin. Steve's entire body was tight as he held himself tense just to keep his balance. He wasn't even fully hard, his body far too spent already to get it up so fast. 

Bucky grabbed Steve's waist and squeezed, making him clench around Bucky's cock and drawing another moan out of him. "Fuck Steve. I ever tell you how fucking good you are at this? A fucking expert. You were made for this." 

Sam pulled out of Steve's mouth, holding his head up by the harness. Steve gasped, lips wet with spit, and then Sam pushed back in, making Steve deepthroat him. "That's right," Sam purred. "Just take it. You're taking it real good." 

A few more thrusts, and Sam was coming down Steve's throat, pulling back enough to make him taste it. He pulled out all the way and dragged his cock along Steve's mouth, smearing his face with come. 

Bucky pulled out too, and for a second Steve was blissfully empty, his insides cold and wet, the air sharp against them. Then Steve was roughly flipped on his back, and Bucky pushed himself back in, holding Steve's trembling hips still. "Sam, get a ball gag and a set of clamps. Something he can use with his piercings." 

Steve was too delirious to even process what the words meant. He just recycled the words over and over.  _ Ball gag… clamps…  _ wasn't Sam only supposed to use things he and Bucky had already used before? Clamps didn't--

Sam pinched Steve's nipples hard, and he yelped, jerking. Bucky was still mostly still inside of him, but he rocked a little, needing some stimulation, and unintentionally rubbed up on Steve's prostate. Steve whined against the gag, and then writhed as the nipple clamps were applied. They were like getting the original piercings without the sharpness. They were attached to a chain, and when Sam pulled them

even a little, Steve arched  _ hard,  _ nearly losing his balance on the bench. It was then that Bucky started fucking into him for real, slamming in and out, making Steve writhe and moan, more desperate than ever before. Everything  _ hurt  _ and he either couldn't move or couldn't  _ stop  _ moving. He wanted to cry. He might cry. 

Then Bucky grabbed the chain connected the nipple clamps and yanked it hard, right as he slammed all the way in, and came. He pulled out enough to come on the outside of Steve's hole too, on his thighs, his ass. 

"Jesus," Sam muttered, coming around to see. Steve couldn't even think-- somewhere between then and now, he'd orgasmed again, and his heart was pounding in his ears. He felt fingers prodding him open, looking inside at the mess that Bucky and Sam made, and twin hums of interest. 

Sam pulled at Steve's loose rim, feeling it pulse. "Bucky, have I ever told you that you're the best friend anyone could ever ask for." 

Bucky laughed, a little dry. "You're welcome. Happy birthday."

  
  


\----------------------

  
  


All of the implements were removed, leaving Steve completely naked once more, aside from the ever present collar. Then Bucky scooped him up from the bench, carrying him over to where Sam had laid out on the bed. He pseudo-gently laid Steve down on top of Sam, and Steve curled in. He didn’t care who Sam was at that moment— in fact, he could hardly remember. He was too exhausted to move or think or cry, so he just curled up, his ear pressed to Sam’s bare chest, close enough to hear his heartbeat. Sam said something vague and pleased, and started rubbing Steve’s back, eventually trailing up into his hair for a scalp massage. Steve pressed his face closer to Sam’s chest, seeking out whatever affection he could give him. 

“Sweet thing,” Bucky muttered, climbing in on Steve’s other side. He rested a hand on Steve’s ass, rubbing little circles into his flesh. Steve creened up, trying to encourage the touch as much as possible without actually saying anything. In theory, he could speak, but in practice? He was pretty sure the past hour or so had made him mute.

“You really are a good friend,” Sam said, still massaging Steve’s scalp but talking to Bucky. “I’m glad we know each other.”

“Aww,” Bucky cooed, “Who'da thunk, all it took to get you sappy was a few orgasms. You’re going soft, Wilson.”

“Man, shut up. Come here.”

Steve was vaguely aware of sliding off Sam’s chest and onto the sheets as Sam sat up, and then the light was blocked out as Sam and Bucky kissed, taking their time. Steve opened his eyes to watch as Sam cupped Bucky's face tenderly. 

They pulled back, smiling at each other for a brief moment before laying back down. Sam adjusted Steve's head to rest on Sam's chest, and he let his hand flop onto it too, sliding over his smooth skin. Sam's chest was hairless, and it made Steve wonder if that was natural or if he got it waxed or something. 

Bucky scooted a little closer, bare legs pressing against Steve's, and without prompt Sam said "Do you know what I really want to do?" 

Bucky was quiet for a moment, before bursting out with laughter. "Sam,  _ Jesus Christ.  _ I don't understand you." 

"You don't have to," Sam replied playfully. "Can I, though? Do you mind?" 

"You're ridiculous. Yes, fine, do it." 

Before Steve could guess what they were talking about, Sam was pulling him all the way on top of him, adjusting his hips and getting him in place before sinking back into him. Steve groaned-- it was painful this time, actually painful-- but his hole was still slack and wet, and Sam had no problem at all sliding his cock back into him. He didn't thrust or anything, so after a few moments Steve just collapsed back on his chest, head facing the other way this time. Bucky was smiling at him a little stupidly, and Steve made a vaguely threatening gesture before pulling Bucky close enough to kiss. 

"You have fun?" Bucky teased. 

"You're the worst," Steve whispered, feeling Sam move minutely inside of him. "The absolute worst. A little warning would have been nice." 

Bucky shrugged, looking absolutely unashamed. 

Soon, Sam rolled onto his side, taking Steve with him. Now Steve lay chest to chest with Sam, still filled with Sam's seed, Bucky's seed, and Sam's cock, with Bucky's chest pressed to his back. Steve panicked for a moment when he felt Bucky's cock nudge against Steve's ass, but luckily, it was soft. 

"We could double team him," Sam offered suggestively. His fingers strayed to Steve's hole, tugging at the rim. "He's just about loose enough." 

Bucky groaned, nuzzling into Steve's hair. "Sam, I already came once. I physically can't get it up again."

Steve had never been more thankful for Bucky. He was still trembling, only vaguely aware of his surroundings, but he knew for a fact that if Sam and Bucky both pushed inside him at once, he'd split in half.

Sam sighed pleasantly. "Alright, maybe another time. I think I'm done anyways, I just wanted him to keep my cock warm." 

Back to safety, Steve let his eyes close again, relaxing. 

"I should do that sometime," Bucky considered. "It might be fun." 

"It is," Sam agreed. 

A few metal fingers were stuck in Steve's mouth, and he sucked automatically. The men kept talking, but he was too tired to listen. Soon enough, he fell asleep, wrapped up in the warmth of his master and his master's best friend. It wasn't the worst place to be; not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter, and if so, what your favorite part was ;) More on Peter in the next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! This fic will be approximately 4 chapters, and it is very very VERY open to suggestions. Is there anything you wanted from the original fic that you didn’t get to see? Any pairing you want to exist? Or just things you want more of, like possessiveness? Let me know!
> 
> If this fic gets enough interaction, I’ll make it a goal to publish a new chapter every 2-3 days. Please comment— kudos are appreciated, but comments let me actually know if you’re interested!


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